<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569</id><updated>2012-01-25T08:37:49.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE GRAND ADVENTURE</title><subtitle type='html'>Helen Keller described life as "a grand adventure or nothing at all". 

This blog is about my own grand adventures over more than six decades. I could tell you about my family, friends and loves; or my experience with loss, death, divorce, betrayal, and other life tragedies.


But life remains a grand adventure, 
and its those experiences I'll pass along to you.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>83</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4402031618511865031</id><published>2012-01-24T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T18:00:22.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Feedback</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;If you wish to leave a comment or want to contact me please do so here, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;or email me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:holtby@denverphotography.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;holtby@denverphotography.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #33ccff; font-family: Arial;"&gt;(If your interest is primarily biographical, and you want to see what my early adventures were, be sure to view the older posts. They go back six decades&amp;nbsp;to my childhood.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;"&gt;ALL PHOTOS ON THIS SITE ARE &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;COPYRIGHT&lt;/span&gt; PROTECTED: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Do not reproduce without my permission!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4402031618511865031?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/feeds/4402031618511865031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8582673727083914569&amp;postID=4402031618511865031' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4402031618511865031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4402031618511865031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/your-feedback.html' title='Your Feedback'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7289426499202560544</id><published>2012-01-24T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T17:57:41.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Next Big Adventure - March 2012: Botswana</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FPqxKWLwz2k/Tx9STwVbnuI/AAAAAAAACTk/LiDuoM77SjM/s1600/IMG_5965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FPqxKWLwz2k/Tx9STwVbnuI/AAAAAAAACTk/LiDuoM77SjM/s400/IMG_5965.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;This is a photo taken by my best friend, Frank on a safari last year in Botswana. He was so excited about this experience that it proved infectious for us, and we booked the same trip for this coming March. Botswana boasts the largest population of elephants anywhere in Africa, and Frank &amp;amp; Meg saw a profusion of other wildlife as well: leopards, lions, hippos, crockodiles, monkeys, giraffes, zebras, a wide variety of birds and more that aren't immediately coming to mind. We are doing a bit of nail biting making all the arrangements for us, as well as our dog, Drummer (who isn't coming along, but needs a temporary alternative home). The cost is twice what we usually spend on our international trips, but Frank assures us it will be our best trip yet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7289426499202560544?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7289426499202560544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7289426499202560544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2012/01/our-next-big-adventure-march-2012.html' title='Our Next Big Adventure - March 2012: Botswana'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FPqxKWLwz2k/Tx9STwVbnuI/AAAAAAAACTk/LiDuoM77SjM/s72-c/IMG_5965.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8854552366525572292</id><published>2012-01-24T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T17:50:39.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Chinese New Year - 2012</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-31A3cS077xU/Tx9RQU9fUwI/AAAAAAAACTU/JFXplkRQhnc/s1600/Chinese+NYs-Ae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-31A3cS077xU/Tx9RQU9fUwI/AAAAAAAACTU/JFXplkRQhnc/s400/Chinese+NYs-Ae.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-thoxC3_TQ-8/Tx9RSOCUtrI/AAAAAAAACTc/pc_yVpwfHEE/s1600/Dragon-Be.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-thoxC3_TQ-8/Tx9RSOCUtrI/AAAAAAAACTc/pc_yVpwfHEE/s200/Dragon-Be.jpg" width="123" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sometimes the best adventures are close to home: this was a presentation sponsored by the Denver Art Museum to celebrate the Chinese&amp;nbsp;New Year. The dancers are from the Asian Cultural Heritage Center.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8854552366525572292?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8854552366525572292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8854552366525572292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2012/01/happy-chinese-new-year-2012.html' title='Happy Chinese New Year - 2012'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-31A3cS077xU/Tx9RQU9fUwI/AAAAAAAACTU/JFXplkRQhnc/s72-c/Chinese+NYs-Ae.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8842130507455120240</id><published>2011-10-11T12:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T12:33:43.283-06:00</updated><title type='text'>October, 2011: Drummer, The New Puppy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SQjjqwqUTNY/TpSLUYgydII/AAAAAAAACFY/PArhRNbYnWE/s1600/Drummer+at+Gate-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="287" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SQjjqwqUTNY/TpSLUYgydII/AAAAAAAACFY/PArhRNbYnWE/s400/Drummer+at+Gate-e.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;Sometimes adventures in life come from canine companions. Between Judy &amp;amp; I, we've counted up a dozen sight hounds we have had over two-and-a-half decades.This is our latest addition: Drummer, who has a blog of his own:&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://drummerhound.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://DrummerHound.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8842130507455120240?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8842130507455120240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8842130507455120240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/10/october-2011-drummer-new-puppy.html' title='October, 2011: Drummer, The New Puppy'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SQjjqwqUTNY/TpSLUYgydII/AAAAAAAACFY/PArhRNbYnWE/s72-c/Drummer+at+Gate-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4870691598292376779</id><published>2011-09-11T22:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T22:07:07.328-06:00</updated><title type='text'>August, 2011: Cheyene Mountain Zoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JuX7-jnqqKs/Tm2CUkxImsI/AAAAAAAACDE/-2BLTyyPz6k/s1600/Mike%2526Giraffe-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" nba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JuX7-jnqqKs/Tm2CUkxImsI/AAAAAAAACDE/-2BLTyyPz6k/s320/Mike%2526Giraffe-e.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This zoo, in Colorado Springs, is best known for its gentle giraffes that are at eye level with people in their enclosure. For $2 you can buy fresh lettuce and feed them. They stick out their black tongues for the treats.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vM9ffmO-Vhs/Tm2DHaHdyGI/AAAAAAAACDI/qvKsA7V4low/s1600/Hippo2-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" nba="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vM9ffmO-Vhs/Tm2DHaHdyGI/AAAAAAAACDI/qvKsA7V4low/s200/Hippo2-e.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The zoo is quite hilly, but is layed out well and there is a sense of wildlife in the wild rather than caged. As a matter of fact, we encountered two stag deer, with their horns in velvet, who were not in a cage. They have wandered onto the zoo property and apparently like the grazing around the cages. They also had no fear of people, and I was able to get quite close to take a photo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Oe8pxWPhYM/Tm2E_q7byPI/AAAAAAAACDQ/D4EEw9rb_oU/s1600/DeerInVelvet-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" nba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Oe8pxWPhYM/Tm2E_q7byPI/AAAAAAAACDQ/D4EEw9rb_oU/s320/DeerInVelvet-e.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4870691598292376779?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4870691598292376779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4870691598292376779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/09/august-2011-cheyene-mountain-zoo.html' title='August, 2011: Cheyene Mountain Zoo'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JuX7-jnqqKs/Tm2CUkxImsI/AAAAAAAACDE/-2BLTyyPz6k/s72-c/Mike%2526Giraffe-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4200641337011432452</id><published>2011-07-02T16:16:00.022-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T16:53:08.203-06:00</updated><title type='text'>JUNE, 2011: Isla Mujeres, Mexico: WHALE SHARKS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jlA_i1YasS0/Tg-X7hPk4LI/AAAAAAAACB4/SZEvyNK_ExU/s1600/Shark+%2526+Mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jlA_i1YasS0/Tg-X7hPk4LI/AAAAAAAACB4/SZEvyNK_ExU/s400/Shark+%2526+Mike.jpg" width="400px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Photo of the whale shark &amp;amp;&amp;nbsp;Mike taken by John Pierce&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F922VLxD6bo/Tg-YABBFv2I/AAAAAAAACB8/1626qZ0nDUs/s1600/Whale+Shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F922VLxD6bo/Tg-YABBFv2I/AAAAAAAACB8/1626qZ0nDUs/s200/Whale+Shark.jpg" width="150px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;My view of the whale shark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v5rdh1EVkms/Tg-gmoE_OsI/AAAAAAAACCU/Zx9FOgr1bhs/s1600/Lion+Fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v5rdh1EVkms/Tg-gmoE_OsI/AAAAAAAACCU/Zx9FOgr1bhs/s200/Lion+Fish.jpg" width="150px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31_ukmnjm9c/Tg-hL3qOIWI/AAAAAAAACCY/tQEkOFiaPK8/s1600/Trigger+Fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31_ukmnjm9c/Tg-hL3qOIWI/AAAAAAAACCY/tQEkOFiaPK8/s200/Trigger+Fish.jpg" width="200px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿This trip was focused on snorkeling off the coast of Isla Mujeres with whale sharks. They are feeding on plankton, close to the surface. After two days of scuba diving in Cozumel we spent a day trekking to Isla Mujeres: a van, two ferries, another van and a taxi. It took us all day. Isla Mujeres is a manageable size island with a great selection of restaurants, catering to tourists. Our hotel, Playa La Media Luna is relatively new with pool, palms, beach and all that you would want... (although the continental breakfast left us wanting).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;The next day we set out at 8am on a 30 foot boat called The Lilly, in search of our whale shark quarry. The boat bounced and banged through the waves for three hours before we got in the right part of the ocean. There was lots of chatter between boats in the area, as we circled without a sighting. Some of our party were looking pretty green, despite ordinarily being immune to sea sickness. The first two sightings we came upon were one whale shark with a line of thirty boats waiting to unload their tourists into the water for the chase. Each boat could only have two divers in the water at any one time, and the boats were politely taking turns. Even so, there were many people hovering over the shark all at the same time. So we continued on. We were told on other days there were dozens of whale sharks, all in the same area. A satellite photo taken two seasons ago, showed 420 sharks in the vicinity, often also with dolphins, and turtles. After at least another hour of bobbing and swaying we found another solo whale shark, this time with only eight boats in the area. We hurriedly put on our wet suits, booties &amp;amp; fins, masks, and I grabbed my underwater camera. We would sit on the back end of the boat in pairs until the captain maneuvered us just ahead of the shark, and then would say, "Go, go, go!" It was reminiscent of parachuting out of a plane: "Go, go, go!" We'd dive into the water and start looking under the surface. I was able to go four times, each time swimming as fast as I could until I ran out of steam. Then the boat would pick us up, and another pair would be positioned for their sprint. The shark we followed was about thirty feet long, and I was about six feet above him. He was so close I could have grabbed his dorsal fin (but didn't: he would have dove deeper if I did). My camera was wide angle, but not wide enough: all I got was spots and portions of the shark -- a fin here, a tail there. I resolved that on the second day of diving I'd take video, so you could see him sliding beneath me until I could no longer keep up and you'd see his giant tail gracefully pushing him ahead of me. John Pierce, another diver on the trip with us, had a fish-eye lens on a Nikon, in a large housing. He got some great photos, showing the whole fish. A whale shark is the largest fish in the ocean, ranging in size from 20-60 feet. They aren't whales (which are mammals), but related to other sharks, yet have gaping mouths built for plankton collection. There is no threat to humans, and they basically ignore our presence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GRN14EqEqU8/Tg-fSIfySwI/AAAAAAAACCQ/rbBb_TnnQeM/s1600/Sting+Ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="157px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GRN14EqEqU8/Tg-fSIfySwI/AAAAAAAACCQ/rbBb_TnnQeM/s200/Sting+Ray.jpg" width="200px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Despite the long boat ride back and forth, and having to wait interminably for the shark encounter; I left feeling quite high from the experience. The only downside was my being responsible for losing Judy's first engagement ring: I had noticed she was wearing it, and suggested she put it in one of my waterproof cases (where I put my glasses and hearing aids). She wears it on trips, versus her more expensive one. Her ring is a zircon that would easily hook on things. At the end of the day it was gone! It apparently came out when I took out bills for a tip, before we left the boat. It was of little monetary, but much sentimental value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is Sunday, June 26th and I was all packed up with my gear, ready for our second shark encounter. However, yesterday -- our day in between encounters -- a storm came in. It poured intensely for 20 minutes at a time, every 2 hours or so, but as the day went along this was accompanied by wind and lightening. By this morning the ocean waves were high and the forecast was 80% chance of more of the same. The boat cancelled, so we lost our second chance at the shark encounters. We would have all gotten sea sick, and sighting the sharks in that kind of choppy seas would have been close to impossible. As my father used to say, "Another shitty day in paradise." We'll just console ourselves with a few great meals, the beach, pool, and reading in the hammock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the lost ring was found by the boat crew!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4200641337011432452?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4200641337011432452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4200641337011432452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/07/june-2011-isla-mujeres-mexico-whale.html' title='JUNE, 2011: Isla Mujeres, Mexico: WHALE SHARKS!'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jlA_i1YasS0/Tg-X7hPk4LI/AAAAAAAACB4/SZEvyNK_ExU/s72-c/Shark+%2526+Mike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2174487028398391443</id><published>2011-03-20T09:50:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T10:21:07.675-06:00</updated><title type='text'>March 2011: Butterfly Pavilion, Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-EKC-ZZyFvOc/TYYhI-CPDzI/AAAAAAAACBo/ZreCYOsyU6I/s1600/Butterfly-141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-EKC-ZZyFvOc/TYYhI-CPDzI/AAAAAAAACBo/ZreCYOsyU6I/s400/Butterfly-141.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FD8aoDbdDdA/TYYhLwgklfI/AAAAAAAACBs/_IdFjJtsCxQ/s1600/Butterfly-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FD8aoDbdDdA/TYYhLwgklfI/AAAAAAAACBs/_IdFjJtsCxQ/s200/Butterfly-30.jpg" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;"A butterfly counts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;not in months,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;but in moments,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;and has enough time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Babindranath Tagore&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes adventures are within a few miles of home. Above is a rice paper butterfly from Asia, but I spent a few pleasant hours in Westminster, Colorado, at the Butterfly Pavilion, photographing exotic moths and butterflies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2174487028398391443?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2174487028398391443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2174487028398391443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-2011-butterfly-pavilion.html' title='March 2011: Butterfly Pavilion, Colorado'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-EKC-ZZyFvOc/TYYhI-CPDzI/AAAAAAAACBo/ZreCYOsyU6I/s72-c/Butterfly-141.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2744335679708682581</id><published>2011-02-06T11:29:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T11:35:38.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>January 29-30, 2011: HIGHWAY 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU7lxXv0CjI/AAAAAAAACAY/67KAMyFd9Bk/s1600/Big+Rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU7lxXv0CjI/AAAAAAAACAY/67KAMyFd9Bk/s400/Big+Rock.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU7oupxAU3I/AAAAAAAACAc/cfsmmuztWQM/s1600/Oysters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU7oupxAU3I/AAAAAAAACAc/cfsmmuztWQM/s320/Oysters.jpg" width="209" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As we drive North from San Francisco Highway 1 is a twisting-turning, two lane highway that parallels the California Coast. The shoreline is often rugged with cliffs, and in other places wide beaches. Some of the time it is raining or drenched in fog. Out of nowhere we come upon a line of parked cars along the edge of the highway, and then a wide spot in the road -- with valet parking. As we pass by we see people barbecuing, and sitting around tables. We realize it is a place selling fresh oysters, and we turn around and join them. It turns out to the Hog Island Oyster Company in Tomales Bay. We have an amazing lunch of oysters, fresh bread and cheese.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2744335679708682581?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2744335679708682581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2744335679708682581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/02/january-2011-highway-1.html' title='January 29-30, 2011: HIGHWAY 1'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU7lxXv0CjI/AAAAAAAACAY/67KAMyFd9Bk/s72-c/Big+Rock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-854479197077636998</id><published>2011-01-23T20:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T20:31:33.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>January 1st, 2011: Monterey Bay Aquarium</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TTzvhgUSe9I/AAAAAAAAB_g/vEhXzqW3xHM/s1600/Jellyfish+1-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TTzvhgUSe9I/AAAAAAAAB_g/vEhXzqW3xHM/s400/Jellyfish+1-e.jpg" width="273" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There is nothing as sublime as a jellyfish floating through the water. But nothing is as it seems: this photo is upside down. They sink and undulate head first. See a video on my photo website: &lt;a href="http://denverphotography.com/"&gt;http://denverphotography.com/&lt;/a&gt;, or on Vimeo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/18409233"&gt;http://vimeo.com/18409233&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Monterey Aquarium has got to be the best I've visited; the others being Seattle, Denver and Atlanta. The other highlight is the big tank with kelp spanning multiple stories and a ball of tight silver fish constantly circling in unison.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-854479197077636998?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/854479197077636998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/854479197077636998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2011/01/january-1st-2011-monterey-bay-aquarium.html' title='January 1st, 2011: Monterey Bay Aquarium'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TTzvhgUSe9I/AAAAAAAAB_g/vEhXzqW3xHM/s72-c/Jellyfish+1-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1623619315039141029</id><published>2010-12-05T18:40:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T17:33:18.914-06:00</updated><title type='text'>November 2010: Beqa Lagoon, Fiji</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7JByGnUpXek/Tg-qIi3KjHI/AAAAAAAACCc/xLSMdOb-uVk/s1600/Ship+Wreck-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7JByGnUpXek/Tg-qIi3KjHI/AAAAAAAACCc/xLSMdOb-uVk/s400/Ship+Wreck-e.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw3iZS0jnI/AAAAAAAAB9k/vXh7asQWiqY/s1600/Mike+%2526+Judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="138" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw3iZS0jnI/AAAAAAAAB9k/vXh7asQWiqY/s200/Mike+%2526+Judy.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw46m6AgsI/AAAAAAAAB9o/3sPLYAPb67M/s1600/Judy+Snorkel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw46m6AgsI/AAAAAAAAB9o/3sPLYAPb67M/s200/Judy+Snorkel.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I took Judy to Fiji for her birthday. It was a dive trip with Denver Divers. She had never even been snorkeling before this trip. While in Oakland she pursued scuba classes to prepare for open water certification. They dressed her up in a 7 mil. suit that was too small, and a thick hood. She had a panic attack and wasn't sure she could finish the course. She was able to complete the written and pool prep, but had to take it all a second time through our dive school at Denver Divers. Then upon arrival in Fiji, she had a sinus infection, and couldn't dive until the last two days. The day prior to her first dive I took her out for a snorkel, her first ever. The reaction was, "Wow! Its like an aquarium down there!" She thought you have to look for the fish, but as soon as she put her mask under the water, there they were in all their profusion of&amp;nbsp;color. On the next to the last dive of the trip Judy was certified! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw5F8sYk7I/AAAAAAAAB98/KwRkhP7JY54/s1600/Tiger+Shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="251" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw5F8sYk7I/AAAAAAAAB98/KwRkhP7JY54/s400/Tiger+Shark.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;This was my sixteenth scuba trip, and brought my total number of dives to 180. I did twelve on this trip. One of the highlights was the two shark dives. On the right is a link to a YouTube video of one of those dives. On the second dive I was hanging out at the 15' safety stop at the end of the dive, and our divemaster, Missy, motioned that he wanted my camera. When I gave it to him he shot off out of sight. When he returned he had three shots of a large tiger shark, who was a later-comer to the chum we had set out to bring the sharks to our sight. The two shark dives reminds me of a quote &lt;em&gt;(which is in my newly published book)&lt;/em&gt; from George Carlin: &lt;em&gt;"Life is not measured in the number of breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw5CQxFOWI/AAAAAAAAB90/k8RDLjveZSw/s1600/Lion+Fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw5CQxFOWI/AAAAAAAAB90/k8RDLjveZSw/s400/Lion+Fish.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Being the Pacific, we saw lots of things I hadn't previously seen: blue ribbon eels, clown fish, and lion fish. I have been told lion fish now have been introduced to the Caribbean, but its been so long since I've been diving there that&amp;nbsp;it was the first time I've seen them outside an aquarium. They are highly poisonous, and in the Atlantic waters, have no natural enemies.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw492GFiKI/AAAAAAAAB9s/bNH9y26zs9U/s1600/Fiji+Children+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="251" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPw492GFiKI/AAAAAAAAB9s/bNH9y26zs9U/s400/Fiji+Children+2.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Another highlight of the trip was a visit to a local village where the school children sang and danced for us. They were very friendly, and engaging. Here is a link to a YouTube video I shot with my iPhone: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xobegg0x01E"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xobegg0x01E&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5n3zWvqbaVM/TW17cQMFZ_I/AAAAAAAACBg/gd262Vhzxww/s1600/Mike+UW-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5n3zWvqbaVM/TW17cQMFZ_I/AAAAAAAACBg/gd262Vhzxww/s400/Mike+UW-e.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;That's me!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1623619315039141029?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1623619315039141029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1623619315039141029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/12/november-2010-beqa-lagoon-fiji.html' title='November 2010: Beqa Lagoon, Fiji'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7JByGnUpXek/Tg-qIi3KjHI/AAAAAAAACCc/xLSMdOb-uVk/s72-c/Ship+Wreck-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3460642755265569978</id><published>2010-12-01T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T13:50:55.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOOK PUBLISHED</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPazmtIU89I/AAAAAAAAB9c/EDkYWtXlA9g/s1600/Unexamined+Life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPazmtIU89I/AAAAAAAAB9c/EDkYWtXlA9g/s200/Unexamined+Life.jpg" width="186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is a collection of quotes on a range of subjects: life, being yourself, love, work, loss and other topics. Some of the quotes are listed on this blog on the right margin. The cost is $20, which includes tax; and you can contact me directly to order a copy: Mike Holtby: 303-722-1021 or my email:&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="mailto:Holtby@DenverPsychotherapy.com"&gt;Holtby@DenverPsychotherapy.com&lt;/a&gt;. The book is 152 pages, and might make good stocking stuffers for Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3460642755265569978?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3460642755265569978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3460642755265569978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/12/book-published.html' title='BOOK PUBLISHED'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TPazmtIU89I/AAAAAAAAB9c/EDkYWtXlA9g/s72-c/Unexamined+Life.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4260919067891111781</id><published>2010-11-07T11:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T11:59:43.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October, 2010: Arches National Park, Moab, Utah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2VQplwgI/AAAAAAAAB9I/wwPQDKz8_Bk/s1600/Utah-242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2VQplwgI/AAAAAAAAB9I/wwPQDKz8_Bk/s320/Utah-242.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2fcedw9I/AAAAAAAAB9Q/8vra-QaRdm4/s1600/Utah-261-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2fcedw9I/AAAAAAAAB9Q/8vra-QaRdm4/s200/Utah-261-Edit.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2ZF9PW2I/AAAAAAAAB9M/q8zUY2z8dYc/s1600/Delicate+Arch-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2ZF9PW2I/AAAAAAAAB9M/q8zUY2z8dYc/s320/Delicate+Arch-e.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every part of this earth is sacred ... every pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the woods, every clearing, and humming insect."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chief Seattle to President Pierce, 1855&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4260919067891111781?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4260919067891111781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4260919067891111781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/11/october-2010-arches-national-park-moab.html' title='October, 2010: Arches National Park, Moab, Utah'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb2VQplwgI/AAAAAAAAB9I/wwPQDKz8_Bk/s72-c/Utah-242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4957882310754790739</id><published>2010-11-07T11:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T11:53:00.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October, 2010: Colorado National Park, Fruita, Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb0q4mRUHI/AAAAAAAAB9A/wd1xFJzjUU0/s1600/Utah-214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb0q4mRUHI/AAAAAAAAB9A/wd1xFJzjUU0/s320/Utah-214.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;"As I walk the trail, the forest is making tracks upon me, that will not easily be erased." &lt;em&gt;Joseph Meeker&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb0uKZncNI/AAAAAAAAB9E/fwcYVTJo1h4/s1600/Utah-216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb0uKZncNI/AAAAAAAAB9E/fwcYVTJo1h4/s320/Utah-216.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4957882310754790739?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4957882310754790739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4957882310754790739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/11/october-2010-colorado-national-park.html' title='October, 2010: Colorado National Park, Fruita, Colorado'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TNb0q4mRUHI/AAAAAAAAB9A/wd1xFJzjUU0/s72-c/Utah-214.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2290343957270325792</id><published>2010-05-07T19:58:00.023-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T11:39:28.032-06:00</updated><title type='text'>April 2010: Shark Research, Socorro Islands (Post Trip)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFHcXXfbI/AAAAAAAAB5A/YwvldgiRBvo/s1600/Silky+Shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="283" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFHcXXfbI/AAAAAAAAB5A/YwvldgiRBvo/s400/Silky+Shark.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Most of the time when I show people this photo they react as if I was about to be attacked, when in fact sharks are much maligned and rarely are a danger to divers. In 2009 there were a total of 28 shark attacks, worldwide (according the&lt;em&gt; Newsweek Magazene&lt;/em&gt;) or 6 attacks (according to&lt;em&gt; 60 Minutes)&lt;/em&gt;. In contrast, we are the real danger: 90 to 100 million sharks are caught every year, primarily for the brutal practice of shark "finning" for the Asian market. Locally, I was dismayed to find shark steaks in my Albertson's meat department.&amp;nbsp;Since 1970 we have decimated the overall shark population by 90%. We save whales, but our attitude about sharks still is like it was a century ago about the timber wolf: they are dangerous and should be eliminated. If we do succeed in eradicating the sharks we will allow other species to overpopulate, and throw off the delicate oceanic ecology. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The mission of this trip ultimately was to save the sharks through research tracking their population and migrations. I was dismayed by the low number of actual shark sightings, although we did see several varieties: silkies &lt;em&gt;(pictured above), &lt;/em&gt;scalloped hammerheads, Galapagos and white tip reef sharks. However, compared to my trip to Wolf Island in the Galapagos Islands this was just a fraction in numbers. I presume part of that is the location, but part is also the degradation in numbers in the eleven years&amp;nbsp;since that trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFSUZo8WI/AAAAAAAAB5I/5yZSxHAhD0Q/s1600/Manta+Silouhette2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFSUZo8WI/AAAAAAAAB5I/5yZSxHAhD0Q/s320/Manta+Silouhette2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFeJBMmbI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/_9mk8nDLIGc/s1600/Manta+Close+Up2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="155" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFeJBMmbI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/_9mk8nDLIGc/s200/Manta+Close+Up2.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFb3_rgzI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/n692xigmp8A/s1600/Manta+from+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFb3_rgzI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/n692xigmp8A/s200/Manta+from+top.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The personal highlight for me was the giant manta rays. They were actually quite curious and came around almost every time we dove, often in pairs. This was an awesome experience which can't be fully explained with still photos, so I put some video on YouTube.com (type "denverholtby") into the search engine, and turn down the volume (the audio is just my breathing). Or use the video bar on the right side of this blog. The mantas gracefully glide through the water like birds in slow motion flight. Their wing span is about fifteen feet, so they are huge! They are plankton eaters, and of no danger to divers. There is also a video of the experience of being in the middle of a school of jacks. Right at the end you will see sharks cruising on the other side of the school. When I filmed this clip I didn't realize they were subtly descending and I got to 120 feet before the dive master topped on me, and motioned to come up. I thought I was at about 85 feet! I did return with what has been diagnosed as bariatric trauma to one ear, which a week after diving hasn't equalized. I was the novice on the trip (now with 168 dives). Everyone else was a dive master or researcher with several hundred dives, and much more comfort in the water than I. It had been almost seven years since I had been diving, and it took me until the last few days to really regain my competence. I was always the first to run out of air, and surface. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFhNdv8BI/AAAAAAAAB5g/qnTrsnXfhFM/s1600/Manta+%26+Kelly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="306" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFhNdv8BI/AAAAAAAAB5g/qnTrsnXfhFM/s400/Manta+%26+Kelly2.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a link to more about the depletion of marine life in our oceans, and a very interesting presentation by&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/brian_skerry_reveals_ocean_s_glory_and_horror.html?utm_source=newsletter_weekly_2010-06-02&amp;amp;utm_campaign=newsletter_weekly&amp;amp;utm_medium=email"&gt;Brian Skerry, a National Geographic Photographer&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2290343957270325792?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2290343957270325792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2290343957270325792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/05/april-2010-shark-research-socorro.html' title='April 2010: Shark Research, Socorro Islands (Post Trip)'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S_nFHcXXfbI/AAAAAAAAB5A/YwvldgiRBvo/s72-c/Silky+Shark.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4810417027604059014</id><published>2010-04-11T17:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T17:38:47.210-06:00</updated><title type='text'>April 2010: Test Pre-Dive for Socorro Islands</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8JcMy4K4sI/AAAAAAAAB2c/0pR8fsutXvQ/s1600/Test+Dive-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8JcMy4K4sI/AAAAAAAAB2c/0pR8fsutXvQ/s320/Test+Dive-e.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This was a test dive today -- a refresher course after six-and-a-half years of not diving. I noticed more anxiety and a claustrophobic feel when I first went in the pool, despite only a ten foot depth. Adventures seem to always involve initial fear management. I recall as a kayaker that was predominantly what I was doing for the first two seasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim at Denver Divers took me through all the equipment, and safety procedures. I felt she brought me up to speed again, and by the end I was comfortable -- at least in the pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This photo is Kim showing off her bouyancy control, while I tried the new housing for the Canon G9. I put it on the automatic dive setting: which turned out to be a very slow .jpg that blurred with very much motion. I will have to play with that as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Risks are great, as long as they're calculated; and you are well prepared!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4810417027604059014?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4810417027604059014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4810417027604059014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-2010-test-pre-dive-for-socorro.html' title='April 2010: Test Pre-Dive for Socorro Islands'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8JcMy4K4sI/AAAAAAAAB2c/0pR8fsutXvQ/s72-c/Test+Dive-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-199542822041592970</id><published>2010-04-10T13:44:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T20:26:28.438-06:00</updated><title type='text'>April 2010: Shark Research, Socorro Islands</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8DIEGnOEkI/AAAAAAAAB2U/0Ywo99DxAuA/s1600/Shark-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="148" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8DIEGnOEkI/AAAAAAAAB2U/0Ywo99DxAuA/s200/Shark-e.jpg" width="200" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;Last year my friend Jeff L. &lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;took this trip, and now Jeff is facing the possible removal of his espophagus due to a complicated tumor. Just this week&amp;nbsp;a&amp;nbsp;client of mine, Shelly,&amp;nbsp;is&amp;nbsp;having her third surgery following a damaged ureter and months of breaking out in hives and being bedridden. Shelly was a marathon runner layed flat by a surgery gone wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;These two events just made me more determined to continue my quest for adventures while my health&amp;nbsp;and financial circumstances&amp;nbsp;allow it. I started diving in 1990 &lt;em&gt;(see previous posts) &lt;/em&gt;in reaction to having so many of my clients dying of AIDS. I&amp;nbsp;had always wanted to dive, but now felt an extra impetus not to put it off. Since that time I have done 154 dives, including an exciting trip in the Galapagos Islands. The hammerhead shark pictured here is from that &lt;em&gt;trip (see previous post&lt;/em&gt;).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;This trip is described as being part of a research team assisting Dr. Alex Antoniou, CICMAR, and the University of California at Davis, tagging sharks that reside in the Revillagigedo Islands. There&amp;nbsp;is also likely to be encounters with&amp;nbsp;giant manta rays &lt;em&gt;(200 pop.)&lt;/em&gt;, humpback whales &lt;em&gt;(winter home for 1200)&lt;/em&gt;, dolphins and whale sharks. The Islands are 240 miles South of Cabo San Lucas, and we've been prepared for a 22 hour voyage. &amp;nbsp;The purpose of the study is investigate the residency patterns of the shark populations and their connectivity to shark populations in the Galapagos, Cocos &amp;amp; Malpelo Islands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S-TLxXsi-0I/AAAAAAAAB4I/KKNVSZZX1QY/s1600/Whale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="247" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S-TLxXsi-0I/AAAAAAAAB4I/KKNVSZZX1QY/s400/Whale.jpg" tt="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-199542822041592970?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/199542822041592970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/199542822041592970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-2010-shark-research-socorro.html' title='April 2010: Shark Research, Socorro Islands'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S8DIEGnOEkI/AAAAAAAAB2U/0Ywo99DxAuA/s72-c/Shark-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2986174725647177004</id><published>2010-03-06T17:43:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T22:58:17.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Denver, Colorado: Lifetime Achievement Award -  March, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5L01PzEpSI/AAAAAAAAB2M/VapYhfYDGFQ/s1600-h/Award-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5L01PzEpSI/AAAAAAAAB2M/VapYhfYDGFQ/s320/Award-e.jpg" width="202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;I am proud of the fact that I just received this award based upon the totality of my work as a psycho-therapist over four decades. I don't presume you will have much interest in this, but if you do you can find out more on my professional website: &lt;a href="http://denverpsychotherapy.com/"&gt;http://denverpsychotherapy.com/&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Contrary to what might be implied by such an award: my career is not at its end. I'm not retiring in the forseeable future.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;It fits the theme of this blog in the sense that one's work life can also be a "grand adventure". If that was not the case I couldn't have done it for so many years without burning out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;I must confess: in my thirties I &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; burn out. Listening every day to the problems of other people, I felt like a teddy bear with all the fuzz rubbed off. I turned my energies to professional photography for about five years.&amp;nbsp;I soon&amp;nbsp;came back to psychotherapy as the AIDS epidemic hit. Ironically, I was re-energized by confronting life and death matters with many men facing the reality of their lives ending. I still see clients with HIV, but&amp;nbsp;as a much smaller part of my caseload. What has helped me avoid burn out a second time is now I am more focused on how people overcome adversity. Its not where we've been its who we are now, and how far we've come.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;have never grown tired of the stories of people's lives: everyone is interesting and unique.&amp;nbsp;I have just started interviewing victims of torture who are applying for political asylum. This is just a continuation of my work with&amp;nbsp;people who experience&amp;nbsp;trauma. I have experienced, in my own lifetime losses, adversities and set-backs. However, sitting with people who are trauma survivors&amp;nbsp;such as abuse, natural disasters and war,&amp;nbsp;leaves me feeling very fortunate.&amp;nbsp; The "grand adventure" of life is a&amp;nbsp;lucky luxury not afforded to all of humankind. But neither can I&amp;nbsp;accept the notion that we are all doomed to lives of quiet desperation. Its not what happens to us in our lives that counts: its our&amp;nbsp;response.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2986174725647177004?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2986174725647177004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2986174725647177004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/03/denver-colorado-lifetime-achievement.html' title='Denver, Colorado: Lifetime Achievement Award -  March, 2010'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5L01PzEpSI/AAAAAAAAB2M/VapYhfYDGFQ/s72-c/Award-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2151123841079079036</id><published>2010-03-06T17:30:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T12:15:37.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>February, 2010: Whidbey Island, Washington</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5LyrM4WxHI/AAAAAAAAB2E/ftBU1i5wg8g/s1600-h/Seagull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="282" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5LyrM4WxHI/AAAAAAAAB2E/ftBU1i5wg8g/s400/Seagull.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;Once again on the way to Whidbey Island to visit my brothers' families and my parents. When I was in high school my friend Greg and I used to skip school and visit Ivar's Fish &amp;amp; Chips shop on Seattle's waterfront. Seagulls waited for those chips. Now, almost fifty years later, I do the same thing on the Muckleteo Ferry. Chips complements of Ivar's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2151123841079079036?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2151123841079079036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2151123841079079036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2010/03/february-2010-whidbey-island-washington.html' title='February, 2010: Whidbey Island, Washington'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/S5LyrM4WxHI/AAAAAAAAB2E/ftBU1i5wg8g/s72-c/Seagull.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8215893023485770339</id><published>2009-11-14T13:20:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T10:18:30.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHINA:October, 2009 - Beijing, Xian, Kunming, Shangri-La, Lijiang, Shanghai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwAyat2pBVI/AAAAAAAABxA/0eFAeL0c4fM/s1600-h/CHINA+DAY+12-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwAyat2pBVI/AAAAAAAABxA/0eFAeL0c4fM/s400/CHINA+DAY+12-002.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA3b9xBBFI/AAAAAAAABxY/RqqIB_Nn1Fo/s1600-h/China+Day+9-087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA3b9xBBFI/AAAAAAAABxY/RqqIB_Nn1Fo/s200/China+Day+9-087.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8G6UHPMSI/AAAAAAAABu4/3VfxJkuhGls/s1600-h/China+2009-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8G6UHPMSI/AAAAAAAABu4/3VfxJkuhGls/s200/China+2009-39.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; China remains a facinating, complex place to visit. However, in the seven years since I've been there I am amazed and dismayed by the growth of the cities. It is becomming all highrises and concrete. The interesting&amp;nbsp;and unique hu tongs (traditional houses) and little shops are being replaced by the universal urban look similar to cities all over the world: Walmart, McDonalds, KFC, cars moving at a crawl, and eye stinging smog.&amp;nbsp;In Shanghai we were told another highrise is completed every week, and 90% of the world's construction cranes reside there. There are 20 million people in Shanghai, and 18 million in Beijing. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA198hhFXI/AAAAAAAABxI/8gYIY7vsLdU/s1600-h/CHINA+DAY+10-342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA198hhFXI/AAAAAAAABxI/8gYIY7vsLdU/s200/CHINA+DAY+10-342.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The Chinese&amp;nbsp;reliance on a booming economy&amp;nbsp;is concerning. What happens when it slows down? The Communist Party government is so corrupt especially at the lower levels, and so overly concerned with holding onto power, that the country remains a house of cards. My friends in China cannot read this blog, as information is carefully controlled. What keeps people pacified seems to be the tremendous velocity of growth and uplifting of their lifestyles: our tour operator described as a child, believing that to be rich would mean being able to have two eggs with a meal. He described a life sharing a bathroom with other families, no running water, cooking on the porch with charcoal,&amp;nbsp;patches on&amp;nbsp;his clothes, and baths only once every 2-3 months.&amp;nbsp;He now owns a car, a three bedroom/2 bath&amp;nbsp;condo, a washer/dryer and&amp;nbsp;a large, flat screen TV. But the same cannot be said for those still in the countryside, plowing&amp;nbsp;with oxen and heating with wood fires. Rural people would say their lives have also improved, but they are only at the level of our tour guide's childhood experience.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8HInDe3JI/AAAAAAAABvA/83JRZKWKtMc/s1600-h/China+2009-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8HInDe3JI/AAAAAAAABvA/83JRZKWKtMc/s200/China+2009-18.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This disparity cannot be sustained indefinetely without the risk of civil unrest. Of course that has already occurred among the Tibetans and Uyghurs, and the Chinese response has been brutal suppression; and overwhelming these&amp;nbsp;ethnic cultures with an invasion of Han Chinese.&amp;nbsp;For more information on that I recommend &lt;em&gt;The China Road&lt;/em&gt; by former NPR correspondent in China, Rob Gifford. If, however, you haven't visited China, it continues to hold a great facination with the Great Wall, and the Terracotta Warriors. Almost any tour of China will include these two highlights. They remain highlights, although other stops like the Summer Palace in Beijing I found a&amp;nbsp;yawn with tour groups so large the guides carrie flags and megaphones.&amp;nbsp;The old China can still be found, although the 55 ethnic minorities in China have literally become theme parks as in the Kunming Ethnic Village; and Old Town, Lijiang. The latter is one of my&amp;nbsp;favorites places, but since I was last there the traditional Naxi people have vacated their houses, due to high taxes, and&amp;nbsp;Han Chinese have turned the neighborhood completely into&amp;nbsp;shops, restaurants and hotels. I haven't been to Lhasa, Tibet since 2005; but with the new high speed train from Beijing, I anticipate its the same there. They remain facinating places for the tourist, if not remants of a proud and vanishing past. For myself, I think there are more interesting parts of Asia to visit: Cambodia probably being next, or&amp;nbsp;my all time&amp;nbsp;favorite: Vietnam. I don't believe we will return to China unless it is to help the Deptartment of Mental Health in Kunming, who treated us like visiting royalty and could use our American experience. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For more details of this trip go to:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://chinatrip10-09.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;http://chinatrip10-09.blogspot.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8GsooogPI/AAAAAAAABuo/OOuyHHFwy5A/s1600-h/China+2009-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sv8GsooogPI/AAAAAAAABuo/OOuyHHFwy5A/s400/China+2009-02.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA3WevpuWI/AAAAAAAABxQ/AqGngXZrhLs/s1600-h/China+Day+1097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA3WevpuWI/AAAAAAAABxQ/AqGngXZrhLs/s400/China+Day+1097.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8215893023485770339?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8215893023485770339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8215893023485770339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2009/09/2009-china-trip.html' title='CHINA:October, 2009 - Beijing, Xian, Kunming, Shangri-La, Lijiang, Shanghai'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwAyat2pBVI/AAAAAAAABxA/0eFAeL0c4fM/s72-c/CHINA+DAY+12-002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3572704829893896076</id><published>2009-11-13T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T15:39:25.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TRAVEL TIPS</title><content type='html'>This list is partially a &lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;"Note to Self".&lt;/span&gt; Many of these things I remember vividly after a trip, and promptly forget them before the next trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;1. Chinese beds are hard, and get harder the more West you go. We found bringing along a hiker's air mattress saves us from bruised hips. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;2. TRAVEL LIGHT: This one I tend to ignore with all sorts of things I can't do without. However, I always regret the weight. Within China 40 pounds versus 50 is the limit of checked luggage. We paid $75 on one flight for going over that limit. I think what would be ideal would be a carry-on size suitcase; or a half-full medium size suitcase. Most places we've visited will tempt you with all sorts of souvenirs, many at great prices. Judy got the hard sell at the "Pearl Market" in Beijing where she ended up buying 3 purses. That was at the beginning of our trip, so she had to haul them all over China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA75glp5yI/AAAAAAAABxw/f3GNeyAe6xI/s1600-h/China+Day+2148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA75glp5yI/AAAAAAAABxw/f3GNeyAe6xI/s200/China+Day+2148.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;3. Take nothing for granted: check &amp;amp; recheck. Judy's purses were bought after a session of very hard bargaining. One of the features of the purses was a shoulder strap, which when we got back to the hotel was missing in every purse. We assume it was our sales girl's revenge for low balling our bids, and being dragged back after walking away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA7JzaQMYI/AAAAAAAABxo/Qu8a7zPv7Xw/s1600-h/China+Day+2152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA7JzaQMYI/AAAAAAAABxo/Qu8a7zPv7Xw/s200/China+Day+2152.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;4. Limit how many cities you visit on one trip. On this trip we were in six cities, and took a total of six flights to get to &amp;amp; from China, and another four flights within the country as well as a day-long car trip. I think three destinations in two weeks is about max. From here out I'd like to go for depth rather than breadth: stay in one place with day trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Toys and polaroid film to give away&amp;nbsp;are now irrelevant except in the most remote places. Everyone has a digital camera, and we didn't encounter a lot of very poor kids in China.&amp;nbsp;Most toys these days are made in China! There is a story about Chinese parents telling their children to finish their dinner with, "Think of the starving children in America!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Be prepared to be sick. Cipro (an antibiotic) kept me from losing more than one day to intestinal bacteria (although after its course was over I got &lt;em&gt;very very &lt;/em&gt;sick a week after our return). Like many Chinese, I wore a mask on many of the airline flights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Even though I turned off my iPhone to avoid international fees for incoming data or phone calls, the iPhone turned out to have applications which were invaluable travel companions. One was a downloaded book relevant to China. Another was the app "Measures" which converted celsius to fahrenheit, kilometers to miles, and most importantly: dollars to yuan. Its a particularly quick and easy converter. And finally, two apps for ordering food: "Food Order" and "China Menu".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I also found it useful to carry a small note pad. Trip guides will fill your head with details and statistics, most of which you won't remember. After a trip I wish I had taken more notes than I did. It helps me process my experience &lt;em&gt;(as does this blog). &lt;/em&gt;I found a small notepad at an art store that must only be 40-60 pages, with a cover that won't fall apart, and a size that easily fits in my shirt pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;em&gt;More tips&amp;nbsp;as they occur to me .... &lt;/em&gt;or readers of my blog suggest others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwBAPfg3Z5I/AAAAAAAABx4/K5DhKTKP-Ko/s1600-h/China+Day+2025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwBAPfg3Z5I/AAAAAAAABx4/K5DhKTKP-Ko/s400/China+Day+2025.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3572704829893896076?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3572704829893896076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3572704829893896076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2009/11/travel-tips.html' title='TRAVEL TIPS'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwA75glp5yI/AAAAAAAABxw/f3GNeyAe6xI/s72-c/China+Day+2148.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8228181660860782801</id><published>2009-06-15T10:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T11:13:53.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MACULAR DEGENERATION DIAGNOSED</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwBB18OyHuI/AAAAAAAAByA/R4DLLmmqdn0/s1600-h/Eyes-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwBB18OyHuI/AAAAAAAAByA/R4DLLmmqdn0/s320/Eyes-2.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In June, 2009 I was diagnosed as having macular degeneration. Its not interfering with my vision at this point, although my mother&amp;nbsp;has been blinded by the same condition to the extent that she will never be able to read this blog. My opthamologist predicted I may be symptomatic within five years. I'm not reporting this to garner sympathy or to be dramatic. Rather&amp;nbsp;it reinforces the "Carpe Diem" philosophy of this blog. My resolve is to travel internationally at least once a year, even if it postpones when I&amp;nbsp;am financially able to retire. In China men are required to retire at 60, women at 50. But presumably&amp;nbsp;due to lack of&amp;nbsp;opportunity, these pensioners then fill their days with little more than mahjong.&amp;nbsp;I'm not quite ready for a sedentary life. I'm still collecting the experiences to provide an abundance of great memories when I am physically compromised. Post Script: what could be worse for a photographer than blindness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8228181660860782801?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8228181660860782801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8228181660860782801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2009/06/macular-degeneration-diagnosed.html' title='MACULAR DEGENERATION DIAGNOSED'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SwBB18OyHuI/AAAAAAAAByA/R4DLLmmqdn0/s72-c/Eyes-2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1514652453260264274</id><published>2009-05-16T14:09:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T12:16:13.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May, 2009: Yellowstone National Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8dpkwIDAI/AAAAAAAABtY/iu3aUCDka_I/s1600-h/Holtby-Buffalo-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336516683534699522" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8dpkwIDAI/AAAAAAAABtY/iu3aUCDka_I/s400/Holtby-Buffalo-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8f_m05smI/AAAAAAAABtg/eGjKT7Mu48A/s1600-h/Holtby-Buffalo2-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336519261071979106" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8f_m05smI/AAAAAAAABtg/eGjKT7Mu48A/s320/Holtby-Buffalo2-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 203px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We impulsively went North to Yellowstone, a last minute change from a planned trip to New Mexico. On the day we were to leave I heard a TWIP podcast with other photographers who just returned from YNP talking about the great wildlife sightings they had encountered. "I'd better pack some warm clothes," Judy said. It was impulsive in the sense that Yellowstone is a two day drive from Denver, and just getting from the South end of the Park to Lamar Valley, in the NE corner where the wildlife is most plentiful, takes three hours. We drove 1,541 miles in five days! We also were a week early for the campsites to be open, and there was still a lot of snow on the ground. We couldn't use our camper, and left it after driving seven hours, in Lander, Wyoming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of the trip was the wildlife encounters: 2 black bear, 2 grizzlies, 3 fox, a few dozen bighorn sheep, a half dozen American pellicans, a pair of nesting osprey, at least a hundred deer, and literally hundreds of antelop, elk and bison. The most memorable experiences were twice having our car surrounded by bison herds; and watching a large grey fox chase another, smaller red fox. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8hr64E4QI/AAAAAAAABto/TQssgkZELZ8/s1600-h/Holtby-Fox+Chase-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336521121879875842" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8hr64E4QI/AAAAAAAABto/TQssgkZELZ8/s400/Holtby-Fox+Chase-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 309px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more photos of this trip go to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/holtby/sets/72157618012678877/"&gt;http://www.flickr.com/photos/holtby/sets/72157618012678877/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1514652453260264274?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1514652453260264274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1514652453260264274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2009/05/yellowstone-national-park.html' title='May, 2009: Yellowstone National Park'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sg8dpkwIDAI/AAAAAAAABtY/iu3aUCDka_I/s72-c/Holtby-Buffalo-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6316997664614508750</id><published>2008-06-15T18:44:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T12:12:52.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May, 2008: Northern Hill Tribes, Vietnam</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;This photo depicts our guide, Thao showing staff at the Cao Son Ecolodge a digital photo she took of them when the cook's wife dressed in the traditional Red Dao dress of the village. Judy bought this dress for two million dong ($125). It took two years for the craftsman to embroider, and she walked four hours to our village on the chance we might buy it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213035440601339906" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFhsHQaQmAI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/ZpUL4a15_sc/s400/Thao+w+Red+Dao2-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: white; font-family: Arial;"&gt;On this trip we started in Hanoi, but concentrated on the Northern Hill Tribes, going to several markets and ending up twenty miles from the Chinese border with special permission to be there. We were the only Westerners in an area populated primarily by Flower H'mong, but also twenty other ethnic minority groups, identifiable by their unique dress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212278381105949266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFW7kmBEqlI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/RbiwfFVewVo/s400/Flower+Hmong+Women-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;For a more detailed account of our trip go to: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vietnamtrip2008.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://vietnamtrip2008.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6316997664614508750?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6316997664614508750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6316997664614508750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2008/06/northern-hill-tribes-vietnam.html' title='May, 2008: Northern Hill Tribes, Vietnam'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFhsHQaQmAI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/ZpUL4a15_sc/s72-c/Thao+w+Red+Dao2-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6821990870535782534</id><published>2007-11-24T12:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T13:55:22.921-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2007    Granada, Matagalpa &amp; Esteli Nicaragua</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgJw4Sb-I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Mb8l0GQpuUA/s1600-h/Ortega+Billboard-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="162" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623870196740066" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgJw4Sb-I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Mb8l0GQpuUA/s320/Ortega+Billboard-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 162px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 290px;" width="290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, Daniel Ortega is elected as President. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKg4ScAI/AAAAAAAAAsg/ET_g2YmJuco/s1600-h/Kitchen-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="177" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623883081641986" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKg4ScAI/AAAAAAAAAsg/ET_g2YmJuco/s320/Kitchen-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="291" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Francisca's kitchen (a building separate from her mud and bamboo house).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2A-xhknQ3I/AAAAAAAAAsI/mt8AJnticxM/s1600-h/Granada-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143179795003556722" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2A-xhknQ3I/AAAAAAAAAsI/mt8AJnticxM/s320/Granada-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sitting in white plastic chairs on the dirt floor of Francisca's yard with her six year old son, grandmother and chickens, mangy dog, and a curious cat we ate the lunch she hosted of tortillas, rice, beans and hard boiled eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cathedral of Granada, originally built in 1583, but destroyed and rebuilt several times since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKQ4Sb_I/AAAAAAAAAsY/OzRoeg2V10k/s1600-h/Dario+Granada-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="184" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623878786674674" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKQ4Sb_I/AAAAAAAAAsY/OzRoeg2V10k/s320/Dario+Granada-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 184px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 280px;" width="280" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Dario Restaurant, named after Nicaragua's most famous poet, Rubin Dario.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-size: 100%;"&gt;A more detailed account of this trip is on a companion blog:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://nicaragua2007trip.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://nicaragua2007trip.blogspot.com/&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6821990870535782534?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6821990870535782534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6821990870535782534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/granada-matagalpa-esteli-nicaragua.html' title='2007    Granada, Matagalpa &amp; Esteli Nicaragua'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgJw4Sb-I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Mb8l0GQpuUA/s72-c/Ortega+Billboard-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1313048114067103798</id><published>2007-11-11T21:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T16:08:50.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 Bangkok, Thailand</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWWfZUyKI/AAAAAAAAAcs/E46Jg6EcBVo/s1600-h/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805982285154466" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWWfZUyKI/AAAAAAAAAcs/E46Jg6EcBVo/s400/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKfZUyHI/AAAAAAAAAcU/aSRU-I-L41E/s1600-h/Female+Statue-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805776126724210" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKfZUyHI/AAAAAAAAAcU/aSRU-I-L41E/s320/Female+Statue-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The first trip to Bangkok it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;oppressively&lt;/span&gt; hot and humid when I attempted to tour the palace. We took a cab there, but were intercepted by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tuk&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tuk&lt;/span&gt; drivers who said the palace was closed over the noon hour. They wanted us to go with them to another tourist trap, and they would bring us back when the palace opened. I was sick from a shrimp salad the night before and I elected to go back to the hotel. It turned out to be a con -- the palace had, indeed, been open, but they wanted to divert us to retailers who paid them a kickback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second trip to Bangkok we encountered the same con at ten in the morning (best to go early due to heat and crowds), but went on into the Palace. What a magnificent place! Gold leaf everywhere. This palace rivals any in the world I've seen for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;opulence&lt;/span&gt; and grandeur. Its large enough to take the better part of a day to go through, and its worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKvZUyII/AAAAAAAAAcc/3yyNTezf9Hk/s1600-h/Gargoyle-e.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805780421691522" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKvZUyII/AAAAAAAAAcc/3yyNTezf9Hk/s320/Gargoyle-e.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWLPZUyJI/AAAAAAAAAck/aVlk1U3TMbE/s1600-h/Gargoyles-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805789011626130" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWLPZUyJI/AAAAAAAAAck/aVlk1U3TMbE/s320/Gargoyles-e.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV5_ZUyFI/AAAAAAAAAcE/gNXCZbb8l8A/s1600-h/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV6fZUyGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/soKALYmvG2E/s1600-h/Elephant+Comp-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="266" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805501248817250" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV6fZUyGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/soKALYmvG2E/s400/Elephant+Comp-e.jpg" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1313048114067103798?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1313048114067103798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1313048114067103798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2007-bangkok-thailand.html' title='2007 Bangkok, Thailand'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWWfZUyKI/AAAAAAAAAcs/E46Jg6EcBVo/s72-c/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4377186985132564407</id><published>2007-11-09T11:54:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T12:10:50.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 Saigon, Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi, Halong Bay Vietnam</title><content type='html'>In Vietn&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe3_ZUyNI/AAAAAAAAAdE/t0PYGt50ME8/s1600-h/Ha+Long+Bay-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815353903794386" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe3_ZUyNI/AAAAAAAAAdE/t0PYGt50ME8/s320/Ha+Long+Bay-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;am it seems a lot goes on by boat: fishing, transport, a place to live, a tourist attraction. The photo of the two women is on the Mekong Delta, where women were well represented among the Viet Cong. These days few Vietnamese are old enough to remember the "American" war. In this photo you will notice the gloves. They are to prevent getting a tan -- and thereby looking dark like a peasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4PZUyOI/AAAAAAAAAdM/J0rshPUHw_k/s1600-h/Fishing-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815358198761698" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4PZUyOI/AAAAAAAAAdM/J0rshPUHw_k/s320/Fishing-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The most amazing thing about their use of motor bikes is what they carry on them. Whole families cram on one bike with Dad driving, and in front of him one of the kids. Then, sometimes standing on the seat with their hands on Dad’s shoulders is a second child, often no more than three years old. Then comes Mom on the back, who may be holding an infant, who is most likely sound asleep! In the countryside the other loads carried on the bikes can be any type of produce, usually heaped on in big bundles. We saw cages of live ducks, chickens, pigs, and puppies (in the North they eat dogs) all on the back of motor bikes on the way to market. We even saw a young water buffalo hog-tied to the back of a bike, and a few miles later a cow strapped on the same way. On a closer look it was clear both were still alive, even though their heads were tied less than a foot off the ground. I would think their meat would be tainted by the fear (and consequential adrenaline) those animals endure during their ride. The Humane Society would be horrified! We frequently were driving in the country side, sometimes for three hours at a time, so I have many photos of the motor bikes loads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4fZUyPI/AAAAAAAAAdU/PFNasZwUBS4/s1600-h/Bike+Family.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="188" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815362493729010" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4fZUyPI/AAAAAAAAAdU/PFNasZwUBS4/s320/Bike+Family.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4vZUyQI/AAAAAAAAAdc/0c_YqTwb1Vo/s1600-h/Bike+&amp;amp;+Buffalo-e.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="133" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815366788696322" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4vZUyQI/AAAAAAAAAdc/0c_YqTwb1Vo/s200/Bike+%26+Buffalo-e.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeU_ZUyLI/AAAAAAAAAc0/RzNHTquTzUQ/s1600-h/Manderins-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131814752608372914" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeU_ZUyLI/AAAAAAAAAc0/RzNHTquTzUQ/s400/Manderins-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found the people more willing to have their photos taken than in most other places I’ve been. I rarely had someone tell me not to take their photo. They often wanted no other compensation than to see the digital preview on the back of my camera, and even sometimes said, "Thank you." when I took their picture. I have a lot of red, beetlenut smiles from old ladies, and kids especially clowned and crowded around us, their little faces staring in my lens. A large percentage of the population speaks at least a modicum of English, as it is taught in the schools and is viewed as an international opportunity. The Vietnamese language has several tonalities and has a quality to it like singing, although this can also become a high pitched screech with women in the markets. I found the Vietnamese more willing to engage with foreigners, and "Where are you from?" wasn’t necessarily a come-on to buy something. I had a group of eleven year old school girls practice their English on me, and request I sing them a song. I sang them "Happy Birthday" (it happened to be Cooper’s birthday that day), and they sang along with me, followed by their rendition of "Farmer in the Dell". Just as they were going to sing me a Vietnamese song they were called away by their teacher. I think the fact that this old man was lurking around the school yard raised less suspicion in their country than it would in ours. As a foreigner I could get away with odd behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeVPZUyMI/AAAAAAAAAc8/blffgwje7gA/s1600-h/School+Girls-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131814756903340226" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeVPZUyMI/AAAAAAAAAc8/blffgwje7gA/s400/School+Girls-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;For a more detailed description of this trip &amp;amp; lots of cool photos go to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vietnamtrip2007.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://vietnamtrip2007.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4377186985132564407?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4377186985132564407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4377186985132564407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2007-saigon-hoi-hue-hanoi-halong-bay.html' title='2007 Saigon, Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi, Halong Bay Vietnam'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe3_ZUyNI/AAAAAAAAAdE/t0PYGt50ME8/s72-c/Ha+Long+Bay-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7232127771420133357</id><published>2007-11-08T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:05.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2006 Solola, Chichicastenango, Guatemala</title><content type='html'>The mark&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3fPZUyCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/WPBxCQyWDUo/s1600-h/Woman+w+Baby-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716516585883682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3fPZUyCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/WPBxCQyWDUo/s320/Woman+w+Baby-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;et in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chichicastenango&lt;/span&gt; was all that you might expect of a Mayan market. The night before and morning of market day (Thursdays &amp;amp; Sundays), people from outlying villages come into town walking with heavy loads strapped to their foreheads with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mecapals&lt;/span&gt;, or balanced atop their heads. Some arrive by "chicken bus", or standing in the back of Toyota pickups, or walking miles on foot. They then set up plastic tarps, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ger&lt;/span&gt;-rigged booths for their wares, encompassing not only the square but the surrounding streets for 2-3 blocks in every direction. Their wares were a mixture of what tourists would want: belts, shawls, hand woven table cloths and runners, pillows, shirts, skirts, and lots of embroidery. There were also masks, Mayan "antiques", knives, dolls, and curios. In addition, the majority of the market catered to the local people with farm produce: lemons, corn, peanuts, live chickens and turkeys, as well as plastic buckets, rope, machetes, cook ware, wood burning stoves, and butchered but unrefrigerated meat. There was a man giving a demonstration of a local cure, showing diagrams of internal organs, and feeding water to a live turtle. He waved off my photography, as a clearly didn't want to cater to anyone but the locals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3gfZUyDI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ATcPZnPVvH8/s1600-h/Baby+Bundle-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716538060720178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3gfZUyDI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ATcPZnPVvH8/s320/Baby+Bundle-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3g_ZUyEI/AAAAAAAAAb8/V5D4PFYZEG0/s1600-h/2+street+girls-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716546650654786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="181" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3g_ZUyEI/AAAAAAAAAb8/V5D4PFYZEG0/s320/2+street+girls-e.jpg" width="239" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There are 12 million people in Guatemala, of which 8 million are children, and only 1 million make enough money and are literate enough to file a tax return. There are 22 indigenous languages, and one in five people cannot speak Spanish. The primary language in the Highlands, where I was, is K'iche. I read a report, published in 2001, which said that 6 million people live in poverty, and among the Maya three of every four are impoverished, with a 70% illiteracy rat4e. Poverty in this part of the world means they live on less then $2 per day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3MvZUyBI/AAAAAAAAAbk/eAkrlkshR6E/s1600-h/Guatemala+Comp-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716198758303762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3MvZUyBI/AAAAAAAAAbk/eAkrlkshR6E/s400/Guatemala+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7232127771420133357?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7232127771420133357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7232127771420133357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2006-solola-chichicastenango-guatemala.html' title='2006 Solola, Chichicastenango, Guatemala'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3fPZUyCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/WPBxCQyWDUo/s72-c/Woman+w+Baby-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4729036553462213593</id><published>2007-11-07T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:06.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2006 St. Petersburg, Susdal, Moscow, Russia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSlvZUx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/zZQB3Lp6aOo/s1600-h/Hermitage+Vases-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130324102603917218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSlvZUx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/zZQB3Lp6aOo/s400/Hermitage+Vases-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Russia we saw was colorfully painted domes, gold leaf statuary, murals, amazing ceilings, restored palaces and museums. Originally built by Catherine the Great, at the Hermitage Museum alone there were 2.7 million exhibits in 1059 rooms, including the works of Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Monet, Cezanne, Picasso and Matisse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSl_ZUx7I/AAAAAAAAAa0/i8WMcOfyP-g/s1600-h/Country+Church-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130324106898884530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSl_ZUx7I/AAAAAAAAAa0/i8WMcOfyP-g/s400/Country+Church-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSC_ZUx5I/AAAAAAAAAak/t-n6LxGCqLU/s1600-h/Folk+Dancers+Composite2-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130323505603463058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSC_ZUx5I/AAAAAAAAAak/t-n6LxGCqLU/s400/Folk+Dancers+Composite2-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKRn_ZUx4I/AAAAAAAAAac/JGyi3mzF8b0/s1600-h/Ceiling.Composite-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130323041746995074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKRn_ZUx4I/AAAAAAAAAac/JGyi3mzF8b0/s400/Ceiling.Composite-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKPffZUx1I/AAAAAAAAAaI/JuuRz2UA8HU/s1600-h/Bishop+Andrew-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130320696694851410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKPffZUx1I/AAAAAAAAAaI/JuuRz2UA8HU/s320/Bishop+Andrew-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We saw the resurgence of the Russian Orthodox Church. The communists tore down one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;magnificent&lt;/span&gt; cathedral, and made it into a swimming pool. After the change in government the cathedral was rebuilt to be exactly what it was. We also encountered a Bishop, and I motioned at my camera pantomiming that I wanted to take his photo. "Oh sure!" he replied, "Is that a Canon Digital?" It turned out that Bishop Andrew was, in fact, American and over in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Susdal&lt;/span&gt; less time than we had been there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4729036553462213593?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4729036553462213593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4729036553462213593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2006-st-petersburg-susdal-moscow-russia.html' title='2006 St. Petersburg, Susdal, Moscow, Russia'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSlvZUx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/zZQB3Lp6aOo/s72-c/Hermitage+Vases-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-676357000415627439</id><published>2007-11-07T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:07.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2006 Tucson, Arizona</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH4_ZUxyI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n9kxjRaVwSw/s1600-h/cactus+3+-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130312338688493346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH4_ZUxyI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n9kxjRaVwSw/s320/cactus+3+-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH5PZUxzI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/B04Vl6kY_uQ/s1600-h/Cactus+Close-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130312342983460658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH5PZUxzI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/B04Vl6kY_uQ/s320/Cactus+Close-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGjPZUxuI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/JOWX_6BS_ME/s1600-h/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGpfZUxvI/AAAAAAAAAZY/YiZyeTLrpgE/s1600-h/Cactus+Close-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGpvZUxwI/AAAAAAAAAZg/j3QaDqQ0QV4/s1600-h/cactus+3+-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKHEPZUxxI/AAAAAAAAAZo/g1r8uxXkqJs/s1600-h/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130311432450393874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKHEPZUxxI/AAAAAAAAAZo/g1r8uxXkqJs/s320/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A stimulating weekend with two dozen professionals from all over the country. Time Sunday morning to visit the suguaro cactus for the first time in my life. I was impressed by their numbers, and the fact that many of them were up to 200 years old. It was a crackling hot morning without any humidity. I walked off the beaten path and within minutes was in a pristine solotude, save one surprised doe and some rabbits, and surrounded by these giants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-676357000415627439?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/676357000415627439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/676357000415627439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2006-tucson-arizona.html' title='2006 Tucson, Arizona'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH4_ZUxyI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n9kxjRaVwSw/s72-c/cactus+3+-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4511026731645582126</id><published>2007-11-05T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:08.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2005 Varanasi, India</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_vHgNzSCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GTS5EWBBs2U/s1600-h/Ganges+Girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129581412784228386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_vHgNzSCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GTS5EWBBs2U/s400/Ganges+Girl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u5wNzSAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/QHG9DWyItdo/s1600-h/INDIA-28G.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129581176561027074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u5wNzSAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/QHG9DWyItdo/s400/INDIA-28G.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u6QNzSBI/AAAAAAAAAZA/1lQii6m3z88/s1600-h/Ganges+Girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_ujwNzR_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/v5lS7wlZTWk/s1600-h/Orange+Robe-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129580798603905010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_ujwNzR_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/v5lS7wlZTWk/s320/Orange+Robe-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Varanasi, reputed to be the holiest site in India where Hindus bring their dead to be cremated, their ashes spread in the Ganges. Its dawn and sleeping pilgrims are waking up, having spent the night on the pavement by the river. Bathers already are in the river. The waters of the "Ganga" are supposed to wash all your sins away by such a bath. I was ready to dive in ... until I saw a corpse floating by. I also read in the Lonely Planet how terribly polluted the water is: 1.5 million particles of fecal bacteria/100 ml, when the safe level is 500.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129580429236717506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_uOQNzR8I/AAAAAAAAAYY/7tE8HDjY-Zg/s200/Ganges+Swimmer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A barber is shaving the head of a mourner (leaving a top knot in the back). He then gives me a haircut, trims my beard, and does a shoulder massage. All the while we are on the steps leading down to the Ganges with a pair of goats, a leper beggar, and a sadhu just a few feet away. Within a few hours its too hot &amp;amp; humid to be outside, but that evening we are in a boat, floating candles in cup cake paper as prayers; and watching the amazing spectacle of incense, drums, bells, chanting and priests doing the evening blessing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4511026731645582126?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4511026731645582126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4511026731645582126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2005-varanasi-india.html' title='2005 Varanasi, India'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_vHgNzSCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GTS5EWBBs2U/s72-c/Ganges+Girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-137668680086369429</id><published>2007-11-05T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:09.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2005 Lhasa, Shigatse, Shegar, Mt. Everest, Tibet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPxz_ZUyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/dm3NnbQJ_sc/s1600-h/Yak+Ride-+e+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130710275998402562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPxz_ZUyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/dm3NnbQJ_sc/s400/Yak+Ride-+e+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_megNzR3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/ljaB7R3NDWM/s1600-h/Tibet+Composite-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129571912316569458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_megNzR3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/ljaB7R3NDWM/s400/Tibet+Composite-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nIQNzR7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/482zk_N3Vog/s1600-h/Rural+Hotel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129572629576107954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="156" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nIQNzR7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/482zk_N3Vog/s320/Rural+Hotel.jpg" width="277" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tibet is an awesome place where their Buddhism is much more central to lives of the people, and the Chinese regime is systematically decimating their culture. With the new train from Beijing to Lhasa the Tibetan culture is going to suffer even more. The highlights for me had to do with the Tibetans and their traditions, like walking Barkhor Square, swinging a prayer wheel with the other pilgrims coaching me on the proper wrist technique; or hanging out with monks (pictured here) at the Tashilunpo Monastery in Shigatse and, without language, being able to be equally curious about one another. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nEQNzR6I/AAAAAAAAAYI/9fi_CNYZIfY/s1600-h/Potala+Palace.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_m-ANzR5I/AAAAAAAAAYA/8qXO92cdES0/s1600-h/Everest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129572453482448786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="175" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_m-ANzR5I/AAAAAAAAAYA/8qXO92cdES0/s320/Everest.jpg" width="277" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On this trip we took Toyota Landcruisers to the basecamp of Mount Everest. It was 14 hour days with dusty roads so bad we wore face masks. Breakdowns occurred a couple of times a day: tires, shock absorbers, fuel pumps. Pictured here is the front lobby of one hotel we stayed at, en route, with a dirt floor. Also pictured is a school near the basecamp where we stopped and gave the kids winter jackets and school supplies. Being able to be in such a remote village was also a highlight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-137668680086369429?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/137668680086369429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/137668680086369429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2005-tibet.html' title='2005 Lhasa, Shigatse, Shegar, Mt. Everest, Tibet'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPxz_ZUyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/dm3NnbQJ_sc/s72-c/Yak+Ride-+e+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5749417026149525205</id><published>2007-11-04T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:10.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2005 Kathmadu, Nepal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6fIgNzR2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/exw5f-Esf4g/s1600-h/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211994057164642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6fIgNzR2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/exw5f-Esf4g/s400/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-ANzR0I/AAAAAAAAAXc/YrsYFkGvt38/s1600-h/NEPAL-12C-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211813668538178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-ANzR0I/AAAAAAAAAXc/YrsYFkGvt38/s320/NEPAL-12C-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-QNzR1I/AAAAAAAAAXk/6MXDfLkbYHE/s1600-h/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ezgNzRzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Bmi5Dr_zzzc/s1600-h/NEPAL-Sahdu-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211633279911730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ezgNzRzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Bmi5Dr_zzzc/s320/NEPAL-Sahdu-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The man pictured here is a sadhu, a holy man; however, our guide cynically said they are stoned all the time on hashish and live off tourists, who want their photographs. We visited at the Pushupatinath Hindu temple where the rights of passage ceremonies were going on for these boys in yellow, and then the large, Buddhist Bodhnath Stupa where we ran into these two young monks with their "cool" sunglasses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5749417026149525205?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5749417026149525205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5749417026149525205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2005-kathmadu-nepal.html' title='2005 Kathmadu, Nepal'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6fIgNzR2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/exw5f-Esf4g/s72-c/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-946595739198997697</id><published>2007-11-04T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:11.375-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2004 Washington D.C.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuf_ZUx_I/AAAAAAAAAbU/W3A6EFPfNng/s1600-h/Museum+Comp-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706633866135538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuf_ZUx_I/AAAAAAAAAbU/W3A6EFPfNng/s400/Museum+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuO_ZUx9I/AAAAAAAAAbE/n1lbklbHscA/s1600-h/Washington+Monument-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706341808359378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuO_ZUx9I/AAAAAAAAAbE/n1lbklbHscA/s320/Washington+Monument-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This was a short trip for Judy's birthday. We concentrated on the Smithsonian, staying at a hotel within walking distance. We were impressed by the subway, and the fact that we could use it -- even from the airport. The Smithsonian is so big its not possible, even when its the main focus, to cover it all in one trip. We probably spent the most time in the Air &amp;amp; Space Museum. There was an entire separate building for this part of the museum, housing a number of large planes, that we didn't see because it was an hour away. What we did see was impressive enough, including the Spirit of St. Louis, missles, space capsules, and WWII fighters. Of course no visit to the Smithsonian is complete without seeing Howdy Doodey, Kermit the Frog, the magic red shoes worn by Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and no less important, Lincoln's stove pipe hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuPfZUx-I/AAAAAAAAAbM/17mDb5C3-ww/s1600-h/Airplanes-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706350398293986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuPfZUx-I/AAAAAAAAAbM/17mDb5C3-ww/s320/Airplanes-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-946595739198997697?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/946595739198997697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/946595739198997697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2004-washington-dc.html' title='2004 Washington D.C.'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuf_ZUx_I/AAAAAAAAAbU/W3A6EFPfNng/s72-c/Museum+Comp-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3155115558159003739</id><published>2007-11-04T21:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:12.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2003 Atlanta, Georgia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ZlQNzRyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ZVlIHTKoCQg/s1600-h/High+Museum+Comp-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129205890908636962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ZlQNzRyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ZVlIHTKoCQg/s400/High+Museum+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6XsANzRvI/AAAAAAAAAW0/kk2K1QAX3V0/s1600-h/CocaCola2-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129203807849498354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6XsANzRvI/AAAAAAAAAW0/kk2K1QAX3V0/s320/CocaCola2-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6WRANzRsI/AAAAAAAAAWc/OA4unTOeZkY/s1600-h/Judy+at+CNN-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129202244481402562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6WRANzRsI/AAAAAAAAAWc/OA4unTOeZkY/s200/Judy+at+CNN-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atlanta at Christmas: traffic!! Great museums:. the High, Coca Cola and CNN -- where Judy was able to read the news on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;teleprompter&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3155115558159003739?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3155115558159003739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3155115558159003739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2003-atlanta-georgia.html' title='2003 Atlanta, Georgia'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ZlQNzRyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ZVlIHTKoCQg/s72-c/High+Museum+Comp-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8257377057692556494</id><published>2007-11-04T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:13.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2003 Yellowstone, Wyoming</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FfgNzRmI/AAAAAAAAAVs/_L0E3C_xv2o/s1600-h/Bear+Face-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183801891833442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FfgNzRmI/AAAAAAAAAVs/_L0E3C_xv2o/s320/Bear+Face-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgANzRnI/AAAAAAAAAV0/AvgedzEl2JM/s1600-h/Buffalo+Fight-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183810481768050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgANzRnI/AAAAAAAAAV0/AvgedzEl2JM/s320/Buffalo+Fight-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FggNzRoI/AAAAAAAAAV8/z5TNhwlOXnA/s1600-h/Buffalo+&amp;amp;+Calf-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183819071702658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FggNzRoI/AAAAAAAAAV8/z5TNhwlOXnA/s320/Buffalo+%26+Calf-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yellowstone is a bonanza for wildlife, since they are so used to people they tend to just ignore people -- although there are people attacked every year who get too close. In a matter of a week we saw hundreds of buffalo, and elk, a dozen antelope, about five blackbear, two moose, a grizzly, and a wolf. In addition, there was a number of birds one of which was somewhat rare: the harelquin duck. To get the bear in this shot to look at me I scraped my foot in the gravel at the side of the road. He was about twenty five feet away, and it made Judy quite nervous. However, the real adreneline came with a grizzly bear filing the frame of my camera as a game warden told all of us to back up.  We went in the Spring time. With a crush of tourists during the summer I would anticipate traffic in cars, carbon monoxide, and less animals in evidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgwNzRpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/JYgEBGHB00w/s1600-h/Harlequin-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183823366669970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgwNzRpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/JYgEBGHB00w/s320/Harlequin-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FhQNzRqI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Lgtzv-oh0po/s1600-h/Pelicans-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183831956604578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FhQNzRqI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Lgtzv-oh0po/s320/Pelicans-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8257377057692556494?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8257377057692556494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8257377057692556494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2003-yellowstone-wyoming.html' title='2003 Yellowstone, Wyoming'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FfgNzRmI/AAAAAAAAAVs/_L0E3C_xv2o/s72-c/Bear+Face-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-9159469940679597101</id><published>2007-11-04T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:14.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2003 Seattle, Washington</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5DRANzRlI/AAAAAAAAAVk/-5QcV21o0js/s1600-h/Market+Grill-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129110985016297042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5DRANzRlI/AAAAAAAAAVk/-5QcV21o0js/s320/Market+Grill-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CAQNzRhI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GdjWQQxw0mY/s1600-h/Salmon-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129109597741860370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 303px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="194" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CAQNzRhI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GdjWQQxw0mY/s400/Salmon-e.jpg" width="335" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CBwNzRjI/AAAAAAAAAVU/2-yjQIydC1M/s1600-h/Ferry+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129109623511664178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CBwNzRjI/AAAAAAAAAVU/2-yjQIydC1M/s400/Ferry+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CwwNzRkI/AAAAAAAAAVc/GREPzM6BgrA/s1600-h/Mask-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129110430965515842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CwwNzRkI/AAAAAAAAAVc/GREPzM6BgrA/s320/Mask-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was in high school, my friend Greg W. and I would skip school, catch a bus into Seattle. We loved to hang out in Pioneer Square, then wander up to Ye Old Curiosity Shop (complete with shrunken heads), have fish and chips at Ivars on the pier next to the Fire Department boats, and end up at the Farmer's Market. Even now when I'm back in Seattle -- all my family is still in the area -- I never tire of the same routine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-9159469940679597101?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/9159469940679597101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/9159469940679597101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2003-seattle-washington.html' title='2003 Seattle, Washington'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5DRANzRlI/AAAAAAAAAVk/-5QcV21o0js/s72-c/Market+Grill-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-101977423025106930</id><published>2007-11-03T21:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:15.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2003 San Francisco, California</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1TlQNzRfI/AAAAAAAAAU0/WOAMTAQ6cyM/s1600-h/ChineseLanterns-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128847450117981682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1TlQNzRfI/AAAAAAAAAU0/WOAMTAQ6cyM/s320/ChineseLanterns-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;San Francisco is a place I've actually been to on several occasions. Its one of my favorite cities: the city itself is small and walkable. Too bad its real estate is so expensive. I love the tour of the "Rock" (Alcatraz), but a lessor known tour is a must: Chinatown, including lunch. You notice the mirrors on buildings to deflect the devil, and you get to visit a fortune cookie factory, as well as a Buddhist temple. The Haight/Ashbury area is not the hippie haven it was when I was in college. Its now frequented by drug addicts, and tourist t-shirt shops. Tie die shirts have been replaced by the message of the post 9/11 era, and are black with "I've&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RnwNzRdI/AAAAAAAAAUk/BsLngnRRuKs/s1600-h/Trolley-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845294044399058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px" height="175" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RnwNzRdI/AAAAAAAAAUk/BsLngnRRuKs/s320/Trolley-e.jpg" width="263" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; got issues" on the front.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmwNzRcI/AAAAAAAAAUc/JsYXdvNpWhE/s1600-h/Giradelli+-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845276864529858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="150" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmwNzRcI/AAAAAAAAAUc/JsYXdvNpWhE/s320/Giradelli+-e.jpg" width="253" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmQNzRbI/AAAAAAAAAUU/SjBgIO-ack8/s1600-h/San+Fran+Bridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845268274595250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 415px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="241" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmQNzRbI/AAAAAAAAAUU/SjBgIO-ack8/s320/San+Fran+Bridge.jpg" width="390" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-101977423025106930?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/101977423025106930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/101977423025106930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2003-san-francisco-california.html' title='2003 San Francisco, California'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1TlQNzRfI/AAAAAAAAAU0/WOAMTAQ6cyM/s72-c/ChineseLanterns-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7466193928552816532</id><published>2007-11-02T22:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:16.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2002 Wolf Sanctuary, Westcliffe, Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv9wANzRaI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aUTngCKOg84/s1600-h/Wolf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128471601824875938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv9wANzRaI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aUTngCKOg84/s200/Wolf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7lQNzRYI/AAAAAAAAAT8/oRLEOTbwb3U/s1600-h/Wolf.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were invited into the wolf enclosure we were instructed to sit down because the wolves would otherwise knock us over. The wolf greeting is to come up, nibble and lick your teeth, and we were told to grimace with our teeth exposed, and lips drawn back ... and not show fear. The wolves were much larger than dogs, and had yellow eyes. We all sat in a line, and the wolves came to us and each in turn politely, if not somewhat aggressively, licked our teeth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7pQNzRZI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ZHcE8myRGUY/s1600-h/Wolf-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128469286837503378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7pQNzRZI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ZHcE8myRGUY/s400/Wolf-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7466193928552816532?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7466193928552816532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7466193928552816532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2002-wolf-sanctuary-westcliffe-colorado.html' title='2002 Wolf Sanctuary, Westcliffe, Colorado'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv9wANzRaI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aUTngCKOg84/s72-c/Wolf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2961486740271839773</id><published>2007-11-02T20:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:17.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2002 Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6PfQNzRrI/AAAAAAAAAWU/8fzZUUgKV20/s1600-h/Bulls+Fighting+-+e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129194792713143986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6PfQNzRrI/AAAAAAAAAWU/8fzZUUgKV20/s400/Bulls+Fighting+-+e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvymANzRUI/AAAAAAAAATc/_6xatCcNti0/s1600-h/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128459335398278466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvymANzRUI/AAAAAAAAATc/_6xatCcNti0/s400/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTANzRSI/AAAAAAAAATM/uD20v7XwzWA/s1600-h/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTgNzRTI/AAAAAAAAATU/FRH-Fq1iOR4/s1600-h/elk-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128459017570698546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTgNzRTI/AAAAAAAAATU/FRH-Fq1iOR4/s320/elk-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have gone to Rocky Mountain National Park a number of years in the Fall to be there when the elk are bugling, more accurately its a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;squeak&lt;/span&gt;. These huge bull elk mark out their harems by circling them and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;squeaking&lt;/span&gt;. Granted, it can be heard for perhaps a mile ... but it is a high pitched &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;squeak&lt;/span&gt;. The routine is to get up at dawn and drive around listening for the bulls "bugling". Until the sun comes up its quite chilly, often breathing a mist in the air. As I dress I always wonder if its worth leaving a warm bed, but inevitably its not only elk but coyotes, sheep, goats, deer, and few other tourists at that hour. Only once did I see two bulls having a full-on fight, but usually by the time I'm camping there, they all have scars from earlier battles. They have collected all their cows, and on the periphery are the "spikes" which are yearling bulls too young to have the prodigious racks of the alpha males. By 8am all the wildlife have gone to lay down in the tall grass and the action is over until the evening chorus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2961486740271839773?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2961486740271839773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2961486740271839773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2002-rocky-mountain-national-park.html' title='2002 Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6PfQNzRrI/AAAAAAAAAWU/8fzZUUgKV20/s72-c/Bulls+Fighting+-+e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4403168802130544067</id><published>2007-11-02T19:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:17.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2002 Wyoming</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3UwNzRXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/MEcTUR8fUDg/s1600-h/OldTown-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128464536603673970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3UwNzRXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/MEcTUR8fUDg/s400/OldTown-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3IgNzRWI/AAAAAAAAATs/ECAXVoCE1ww/s1600-h/Antelope-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128464326150276450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3IgNzRWI/AAAAAAAAATs/ECAXVoCE1ww/s320/Antelope-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvzDQNzRVI/AAAAAAAAATk/MGXaZYtv3aw/s1600-h/OldTown-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Most of Wyoming is not the majestically forested vistas of Yellowstone, but prairie and antelope. In Thermopolis there is an RV park which has its own hot spring pool. In the 1900's they were digging for oil, and instead his hot water. Today it is a wonderful stopover. Another great stopover is in Shoshoni, a little town famous for its malts and milkshakes at the local Yellowstone Drug Store store with an old fashioned fountain. In a typical year they make 50,000 malts &amp;amp; shakes from 14,000 gallons of homemade ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4403168802130544067?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4403168802130544067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4403168802130544067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/11/2002-wyoming.html' title='2002 Wyoming'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3UwNzRXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/MEcTUR8fUDg/s72-c/OldTown-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7085401448144338002</id><published>2007-10-28T21:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:17.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2002 Shanghai, Putuoshan, Lijiang, Guilin, Xian CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP-gNzRNI/AAAAAAAAASs/Mwd9zQvjQ7U/s1600-h/Acrobats2+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126591686049481938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP-gNzRNI/AAAAAAAAASs/Mwd9zQvjQ7U/s320/Acrobats2+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP_wNzROI/AAAAAAAAAS0/UtpEplvcwt0/s1600-h/ApricotHat+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126591707524318434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP_wNzROI/AAAAAAAAAS0/UtpEplvcwt0/s320/ApricotHat+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVOqQNzRMI/AAAAAAAAASk/0IQGveUVSL4/s1600-h/XianDancers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126590238645503170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVOqQNzRMI/AAAAAAAAASk/0IQGveUVSL4/s320/XianDancers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A second trip to China, but such a big country that it is very different from the first trip. We did go to Xian for a second time, and this time I didn't go back to see the Terra Cotta Warriors, but instead I wandered through the Muslim market area. I did see the Xian, Tang Dynasty dancers for a second time, and brought with me photos from the first performance they did. I was able to give them to the cast, and go backstage. They then seated me at the front table where I could actually prop my camera on the stage. The first time we saw them our guide said we would see some "bombs", she meant "bombshells" comparable to Las Vegas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7085401448144338002?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7085401448144338002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7085401448144338002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/2002-shanghai-putuoshan-lijiang-guilin.html' title='2002 Shanghai, Putuoshan, Lijiang, Guilin, Xian CHINA'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP-gNzRNI/AAAAAAAAASs/Mwd9zQvjQ7U/s72-c/Acrobats2+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2303077232278034770</id><published>2007-10-28T18:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T13:29:27.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2001 Silk Road, CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU8EfjtOuRI/AAAAAAAACBI/gFaCa5aRgCY/s1600/Mike+%2526+Camel-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="286" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU8EfjtOuRI/AAAAAAAACBI/gFaCa5aRgCY/s400/Mike+%2526+Camel-e.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our trip was delayed by a few days due to 9/11. After the second day we just went to the airport and waited. When a flight became available we flew to San Francisco, but were again delayed flying out with rumors of some guy in a boat with a shotgun in the harbor. Invariably, the Chinese expressed their concern and dismay with what had happened in NYC, even in the most remote parts of Northwestern China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many highlights on this trip, but what comes to mind is the feeling of how exotic it was to sit with the Uygur &lt;em&gt;(pronounced "wee-gore)&lt;/em&gt; tour guide and driver in an all night Urumqi market. We ate lamb from a common bowl with our fingers. They told me a joke which was at the expense of the Han, the majority ethnic group in China. I looked around and saw no refrigeration and the next day I was very sick. I spent the day looking for the next toilet, which either were slit trenches or squat holes in the tile. For the next three days I ate only a rice soup. The girl in the bottom left photo is in traditional Uygur dress. Note that she looks Caucasian. They are a Muslim ethnic minority that were refugees from Genghis Khan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126582713862800562" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVH0QNzRLI/AAAAAAAAASc/gLhgMcAw510/s400/Girls+Composite+copy.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2303077232278034770?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2303077232278034770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2303077232278034770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/2001-silk-road-china.html' title='2001 Silk Road, CHINA'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/TU8EfjtOuRI/AAAAAAAACBI/gFaCa5aRgCY/s72-c/Mike+%2526+Camel-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3895345087401026779</id><published>2007-10-28T17:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:19.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2001 New Mexico</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUprwNzRKI/AAAAAAAAASU/v1zUHEkef68/s1600-h/Taos+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126549582485079202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUprwNzRKI/AAAAAAAAASU/v1zUHEkef68/s400/Taos+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We attended a corn dance in the Taos Pueblo -- which we weren't allowed to photograph. For perhaps an hour you can see the men of the Pueblo on the rooftops, looking down on the visitors. They are calling to each other, "Ho!," "HO!" across Red Willow Creek. The men of Hiaauma, the North House calling to the men on top of Hiaukkwima, the South House: "Ho!" Then all the men disappear, as if in a vision, they reappear walking across the courtyard, one drummer and perhaps a dozen singers. All wear long sleeved shirts which are not tucked in at the waist. They have blanket shawls across their shoulders, and are wearing finely beaded moccasins; and although they wear jeans, they also have what looks like a short skirt around their waists. They form up next to the San Geronimo Chapel gate, and begin to play and sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two long lines of 50-60 women appear. The drum beats, then men wail a song, and the women sway back and forth -- alternatively lifting a white moccasin on the left, then on the right. All the dances wear the same distinctive moccasins: soft, white buckskin that go up to the knee and have four pleats just above the ankle. Down the middle of their backs is a wide ribbon. all the women wear turquoise jewelry, but many are recognizably for other trips, predominantly Navajo and Hopi. The ribbons are often adorned with silver or turquoise pins, and there are many bracelets and necklaces: squash blossoms, beads and silver chains. The dresses themselves vary from patterns resembling Indian pottery, to lace, to satin, to flowered patterns. In all colors and textures, the dresses collectively have the effect of a rainbow as they sway in two lines, moving in a synchronized fashion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUnowNzRII/AAAAAAAAASE/_IbaQK1AWpM/s1600-h/Taos+Church+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126547331922216066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUnowNzRII/AAAAAAAAASE/_IbaQK1AWpM/s400/Taos+Church+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUlUgNzRDI/AAAAAAAAARo/q59Ml7oQ6LY/s1600-h/Buffalo+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126544785006609458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUlUgNzRDI/AAAAAAAAARo/q59Ml7oQ6LY/s200/Buffalo+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We found a remote campsite up a gravel road 40 miles. It actually rattled our trailer's refrigerator loose. But when we camped we were on the edge of a grassy valley populated by three, large bull buffalo. We were warned to stay clear of them, with an account of their killing a horse the previous summer in the same campground. It was interesting to see them gracefully clear a fense. Unlike a horse that would take a run at it, the buffalo walked right up to it, stood on their hind legs and with a graceful springing motion, hopped over. In the evening we saw a black bear come down to the stream in the middle of the valley. When he heard be saying, "Bear! Bear!" He took off in the other direction. They can sure run!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3895345087401026779?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3895345087401026779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3895345087401026779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/2001-new-mexico.html' title='2001 New Mexico'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUprwNzRKI/AAAAAAAAASU/v1zUHEkef68/s72-c/Taos+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5954632225200231927</id><published>2007-10-28T15:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:20.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2001 Havana &amp; Pinar Del Rio, Cuba</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_QNzRBI/AAAAAAAAARY/R3GAWccLo5A/s1600-h/Cuba+Composite+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502638492533778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_QNzRBI/AAAAAAAAARY/R3GAWccLo5A/s400/Cuba+Composite+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_wNzRCI/AAAAAAAAARg/GFqoiO1Fyms/s1600-h/Frank+Composite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502647082468386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_wNzRCI/AAAAAAAAARg/GFqoiO1Fyms/s400/Frank+Composite.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-zANzRAI/AAAAAAAAARQ/FDXtcK6oKlk/s1600-h/Cigar+Roller.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502428039136258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-zANzRAI/AAAAAAAAARQ/FDXtcK6oKlk/s320/Cigar+Roller.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7KgNzQ9I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/IvGbpqtUKYk/s1600-h/Frank+Composite.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MANzQ-I/AAAAAAAAARA/L6eGMU8xQS4/s1600-h/Cigar+Roller.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This trip was directly out of an unmarked gate in Miami. We were able to go to Cuba on a special cultural exchange visa, which is no longer available. As part of that exchange we actually sat in an auditorium while being lectured on "the triumph of the Revolution", which became a cliche we repeatedly heard on our visit there. The next night we were scheduled to go to a neighborhood meeting of the "Defense of the Revolution" and we dreaded it as more propoganda. In fact, some people from our group stayed at the hotel. It turned out to be the best event of the trip: a surprise block party in our honor. When the thirty Americans in our group filed off the bus we were met by an entire community cheering and clapping, and shaking our hands. There was lots of food, music, dancing and invitations into the homes of the people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MgNzQ_I/AAAAAAAAARI/nBXQufmpbj8/s1600-h/Traditional+Dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126498468079289330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 397px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="207" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MgNzQ_I/AAAAAAAAARI/nBXQufmpbj8/s400/Traditional+Dress.jpg" width="317" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5954632225200231927?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5954632225200231927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5954632225200231927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/2001-havana-pinar-del-rio-cuba.html' title='2001 Havana &amp; Pinar Del Rio, Cuba'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_QNzRBI/AAAAAAAAARY/R3GAWccLo5A/s72-c/Cuba+Composite+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1782606512028292936</id><published>2007-10-28T14:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:20.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2000 Grand Mesa Colorado with Burro Trailer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT2DANzQ8I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Aa9r1M308Gc/s1600-h/Burro+Trailer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126492807312393154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT2DANzQ8I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Aa9r1M308Gc/s400/Burro+Trailer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I bought Burro trailer which took a number of months to be delivered from California. It was a little fiberglass trailer similar to a Casita. We took one trip with it to Grand Mesa, Colorado and were able to camp right on a lake. This trip to Grand Mesa, Colorado was the one and only trip with the Burro, as I began to notice structural flaws which ultimately totaled more than thirty. Through Internet connections with other Burro owners I found a number of other disgruntled customers, and ultimately, collectively we put them out of business. Since I had paid with a VISA, the credit card footed the bill and the company took back the trailer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1782606512028292936?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1782606512028292936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1782606512028292936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/2000-grand-mesa-colorado-with-burro.html' title='2000 Grand Mesa Colorado with Burro Trailer'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT2DANzQ8I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Aa9r1M308Gc/s72-c/Burro+Trailer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3569941054479407554</id><published>2007-10-22T10:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:22.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1999 Galapagos Islands, Ecuador</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133847883402724818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8Xcx0cRdI/AAAAAAAAAdk/9yx4UIwU7jo/s400/Hammerhead-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKxAnHOpI/AAAAAAAAAK8/rrtghfaOWs0/s1600-h/Puffer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123841575646345874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="186" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKxAnHOpI/AAAAAAAAAK8/rrtghfaOWs0/s320/Puffer.jpg" width="279" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In my entire diving career the Galapagos Islands was the highlight. A most amazing place! We would see in one dive more sea life than I would see in an entire week diving in the Caribbean. There were a number of fish indigenous to the Islands, such as the Red Lipped Batfish (which we called the Blue Lipped Batfish because it was so cold down where they were). A lot of the fish also seemed to be much bigger, such as the moray eels. On the top photo shown here is a little puffer fish who was so curious about me that he came up to my camera while I was doing a 15 foot safety stop at the end of a dive. He swam in a circle around me, and then head on to within a few feet. On the northern islands we would dive down about 85 feet, find a hole in the lava rock not o&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZrR0cRhI/AAAAAAAAAeE/fWDsTiQe_Rs/s1600-h/Crane+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133850331534083602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZrR0cRhI/AAAAAAAAAeE/fWDsTiQe_Rs/s200/Crane+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ccupied by an eel, and hook on. The current was so strong that we literally had to hook our BC vest on to prevent being swept away. Then we would wait, and soon 6-8 foot hammerhead sharks would be above and on either side of us. We were in a pot hole in their highway. They seemed shy, and we would hold our breath so they'd come closer. Also on that trip was experiences swimming with sea lions, turtles, rays, and schools of barracudas. I had a bull sea lion bark in my face underwater, telling me to back off -- which I did as fast as I could. My agility compared to theirs was like a snail faced with a swallow. The above water sights were also quite interesting, although non divers are missing a great deal of what the Islands have to offer. We did field trips on various islands to visit sea lions and black sea iguana lolling on the beach, lava lizards, giant tortoises, blue footed boobies, penguins and a plethora of other birds, and unique cactus and trees. We were on a live aboard, the Aggressor and did a total of 15 dives. The water was cold with lots of current, and we carried a blow-up "sausage" so we could be seen among the waves as well as a &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8Zqh0cRfI/AAAAAAAAAd0/QW_L-9ffnr8/s1600-h/Red+Lip+Bat+Fish+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133850318649181682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8Zqh0cRfI/AAAAAAAAAd0/QW_L-9ffnr8/s200/Red+Lip+Bat+Fish+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;horn. This diving is not for beginners. I had the least number of dives of anyone on the trip (127 when I went aboard), whereas one of the guests had about 1500 dives. Since this trip my interest in diving has waned, and been replaced by other kinds of trips. I have done two dive trips since -- one to Bonaire in 2000, and then two dives while on a family trip to Maui in 2003. But nothing can compare to the Galapagos, except perhaps other expensive trips I have not taken such as Palau, Papua New Guinea or the Great Barrier Reef. In my entire diving career the Galapagos Islands was the highlight. A most amazing place! We would see in one dive more sea life than I would see in an entire week diving in the Caribbean. There were a number of fish indigenous to the Islands, such as the Red Lipped Batfish (which we called the Blue Lipped Batfish because it was so cold down where they were). A lot of the fish also seemed to be much bigger, such as the moray eels. On the top photo shown here is a little puffer fish who was so curious about me that he came up to my camera while I was doing a 15 foot safety stop at the end of a dive. He swam in a circle around me, and then head on to within a few feet. On the northern islands we would dive down about 85 feet, find a hole in the lava rock not &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZqB0cReI/AAAAAAAAAds/JVTPfhRGk1U/s1600-h/Dolphin+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133850310059247074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZqB0cReI/AAAAAAAAAds/JVTPfhRGk1U/s200/Dolphin+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;occupied by an eel, and hook on. The current was so strong that we literally had to hook our BC vest on to prevent being swept away. Then we would wait, and soon 6-8 foot hammerhead sharks would be above and on either side of us. We were in a pot hole in their highway. They seemed shy, and we would hold our breath so they'd come closer. Also on that trip was experiences swimming with sea lions, turtles, rays, and schools of barracudas. I had a bull sea lion bark in my face underwater, telling me to back off -- which I did as fast as I could. My agility compared to theirs was like a snail faced with a swallow. The above water sights were also quite interesting, although non divers are missing a great deal of what the Islands have to offer. We did field trips on various islands to visit sea lions and black sea iguana lolling on the beach, lava lizards, giant tortoises, blue footed boobies, penguins and a plethora of other birds, and unique cactus and trees. We were on a live aboard, the Aggressor and did a total of 15 dives. The water was cold with lots of current, and we carried a blow-up "sausage" so we could be seen among the waves as well as a &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZrB0cRgI/AAAAAAAAAd8/NCHNLBGHFGU/s1600-h/Galapagos+Iguana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133850327239116290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8ZrB0cRgI/AAAAAAAAAd8/NCHNLBGHFGU/s200/Galapagos+Iguana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;horn. This diving is not for beginners. I had the least number of dives of anyone on the trip (127 when I went aboard), whereas one of the guests had about 1500 dives. Since this trip my interest in diving has waned, and been replaced by other kinds of trips. I have done two dive trips since -- one to Bonaire in 2000, and then two dives while on a family trip to Maui in 2003. But nothing can compare to the Galapagos, except perhaps other expensive trips I have not taken such as Palau, Papua New Guinea or the Great Barrier Reef. In my entire diving career the Galapagos Islands was the highlight. A most amazing place! We would see in one dive more sea life than I would see in an entire week diving in the Caribbean. There were a number of fish indigenous to the Islands, such as the Red Lipped Batfish (which we called the Blue Lipped Batfish because it was so cold down where they were). A lot of the fish also seemed to be much bigger, such as the moray eels. On the top photo shown here is a little puffer fish who was so curious about me that he came up to my camera while I was doing a 15 foot safety stop at the end of a dive. He swam in a circle around me, and then head on to within a few feet. On the northern islands we would dive down about 85 feet, find a hole in the lava rock not occupied by an eel, and hook on. The current was so strong that we literally had to hook our BC vest on to prevent being swept away. Then we would wait, and soon 6-8 foot hammerhead sharks would be above and on either side of us. We were in a pot hole in their highway. They seemed shy, and we would hold our breath so they'd come closer. Also on that trip was experiences swimming with sea lions, turtles, rays, and schools of barracudas. I had a bull sea lion bark in my face underwater, telling me to back off -- which I did as fast as I could. My agility compared to theirs was like a snail faced with a swallow. The above water sights were also quite interesting, although non divers are missing a great deal of what the Islands have to offer. We did field trips on various islands to visit sea lions and black sea iguana lolling on the beach, lava lizards, giant tortoises, blue footed boobies, penguins and a plethora of other birds, and unique cactus and trees. We were on a live aboard, the Aggressor and did a total of 15 dives. The water was cold with lots of current, and we carried a blow-up "sausage" so we could be seen among the waves as well as a horn. This diving is not for beginners. I had the least number of dives of anyone on the trip (127 when I went aboard), whereas one of the guests had about 1500 dives. Since this trip my interest in diving has waned, and been replaced by other kinds of trips. I have done two dive trips since -- one to Bonaire in 2000, and then two dives while on a family trip to Maui in 2003. But nothing can compare to the Galapagos, except perhaps other expensive trips I have not taken such as Palau, Papua New Guinea or the Great Barrier Reef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKcwnHOnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/sFJiUrTL6v8/s1600-h/Shark+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123841227753994866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKcwnHOnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/sFJiUrTL6v8/s320/Shark+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKcwnHOoI/AAAAAAAAAK0/gFsm0hnVYcg/s1600-h/Sea+Lion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123841227753994882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuKcwnHOoI/AAAAAAAAAK0/gFsm0hnVYcg/s320/Sea+Lion.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3569941054479407554?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3569941054479407554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3569941054479407554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1999-galapagos-islands-ecuador.html' title='1999 Galapagos Islands, Ecuador'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rz8Xcx0cRdI/AAAAAAAAAdk/9yx4UIwU7jo/s72-c/Hammerhead-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4562074619112691824</id><published>2007-10-21T22:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:31.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1999 London &amp; Scotland</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxXgNzQ5I/AAAAAAAAAQY/Rc2xz3wt-NY/s1600-h/Silverman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126487661941572498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxXgNzQ5I/AAAAAAAAAQY/Rc2xz3wt-NY/s400/Silverman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxYANzQ6I/AAAAAAAAAQg/2kbv3xd0FlA/s1600-h/Mike+&amp;amp;+Mohawk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126487670531507106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxYANzQ6I/AAAAAAAAAQg/2kbv3xd0FlA/s400/Mike+%26+Mohawk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxKgNzQ3I/AAAAAAAAAQI/jOMMElvjxgs/s1600-h/Bagpiper+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126487438603273074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxKgNzQ3I/AAAAAAAAAQI/jOMMElvjxgs/s320/Bagpiper+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxLQNzQ4I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/iPxAwFpZF0o/s1600-h/MimeGirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126487451488174978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxLQNzQ4I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/iPxAwFpZF0o/s320/MimeGirl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was a trip highlighted by street buskers. The Fringe Festival was in progress when we walked the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Scotland; as well as the Silver Man &amp;amp; Green Man in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Picadilly&lt;/span&gt; Circus while in London. We also did a second visit to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Dunoon&lt;/span&gt;, Scotland for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Cowal&lt;/span&gt; Highland Games and bagpipe competition, staying with our friends, Ian and Jennifer M.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The longest act I watched was a clown who called himself Pepe and involved the audience in street theater. As it went on the crown became quite huge, surrounding his "stage" and spilling from the street onto the sidewalks on either side. First, Pepe warmed up the crowd by posing for a photograph by laying laciviously on the cobblestones, revealing his bare shoulder to the audience. Then he took the camera from the photographer, and shot a picture down his pants. Then he had her come out of the crowd and set it up to take her picture, first by getting a man in the crowd to stand with his arm around her, and then getting a baby in a pram for her to push so it looked like she had a whole family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he took two men and a woman out of the crowd to help him perform his melodrama. It was largely mimed, supplemented by his directing with a whistle, making motorcycle noises with a kazoo, and plenty of growling and shouting. He would act out the respective parts first and then the three reluctant volunteers would imitate him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4562074619112691824?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4562074619112691824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4562074619112691824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1999-london-scotland.html' title='1999 London &amp; Scotland'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTxXgNzQ5I/AAAAAAAAAQY/Rc2xz3wt-NY/s72-c/Silverman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2895228731314026268</id><published>2007-10-21T22:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:32.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1998 Oaxaca, Mexico</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTx5wNzQ7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/fRmLev3TAPc/s1600-h/OaxacaWaif+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126488250352092082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTx5wNzQ7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/fRmLev3TAPc/s400/OaxacaWaif+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6NwNzQpI/AAAAAAAAAOY/UCPqWZ0umLU/s1600-h/Oaxaca+Woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126427021298320018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6NwNzQpI/AAAAAAAAAOY/UCPqWZ0umLU/s320/Oaxaca+Woman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6OQNzQqI/AAAAAAAAAOg/Z0XnAiyJAE8/s1600-h/OaxacaWaif+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6PgNzQrI/AAAAAAAAAOo/xK-ntWOHb74/s1600-h/Fireworks2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126427051363091122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 125px" height="144" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6PgNzQrI/AAAAAAAAAOo/xK-ntWOHb74/s320/Fireworks2.jpg" width="234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6QQNzQsI/AAAAAAAAAOw/i5D_ijDBG_A/s1600-h/Fireworks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126427064247993026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" height="255" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6QQNzQsI/AAAAAAAAAOw/i5D_ijDBG_A/s320/Fireworks.jpg" width="134" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6RANzQtI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ZupJaENCrPM/s1600-h/Noche+de+Rabanos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126427077132894930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyS6RANzQtI/AAAAAAAAAO4/ZupJaENCrPM/s320/Noche+de+Rabanos.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Noche De Rabanos, the night of the radishes is two days before Christmas. It is a celebration involving huge, radishes carved to represent various religious symbols. In the photo here is one of Jesus with skulls below it. The Zocolo (town square) has a line wrapped around it in three circles. It takes three hours to get to where you can pass the radish carvings, but it is an event worth the wait and the experience of all the local people. At about 11pm we were rained down upon by fireworks (see small photo). OSHA would have had a heart attack! The other small photo depicts pinwheel fireworks common in Mexico, that spews out hot sparks towards the onlookers. It was part of the parade on Christmas eve where all the local churches came with children dressed as angels, Mary on a donkey and Joseph; escorted by people with firecrackers, and paper lanterns. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oaxaca is a colonial town with cobblestone streets and beautiful facades. We spent a week going to the outlying villages which alternated their market days to not compete with one another. Each village was represented by a different ethnic minority, each with distinctive dress and specialised craft: weaving, pottery, painting. On New Year's Eve we marked the coming new year with the hotel clerk we had befriended, Gabby (Gabriela) with whom I still have email contact. She told us the tradition was to eat a grape for every tone of the church bell at midnight and make twelve wishes for the coming year. And she said, "I have the grapes right here!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2895228731314026268?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2895228731314026268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2895228731314026268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1998-oaxaca-mexico.html' title='1998 Oaxaca, Mexico'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyTx5wNzQ7I/AAAAAAAAAQo/fRmLev3TAPc/s72-c/OaxacaWaif+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8883640961446773160</id><published>2007-10-21T22:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:32.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1998 Arches, Bryce, Zion &amp; Window Rock, AZ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNWRgNzQoI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/0g_dzUrEc-Q/s1600-h/Canyonlands4+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126035659583341186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNWRgNzQoI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/0g_dzUrEc-Q/s400/Canyonlands4+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyLBJwNzQmI/AAAAAAAAAOA/ujb2KAupvGo/s1600-h/Canyonlands.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyLAJwNzQlI/AAAAAAAAAN4/S6AOVBL7tZE/s1600-h/PowWow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125870599695188562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyLAJwNzQlI/AAAAAAAAAN4/S6AOVBL7tZE/s320/PowWow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyK_EwNzQkI/AAAAAAAAANw/faGD-Zu0bGY/s1600-h/Canyonlands.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The American West, including Indians -- in this case on the Navajo Reservation at Window Rock, Arizona. We were the only caucasians at this pow-wow, and were clearly treated as tolerated, but unwelcome outsiders. The friendliest indians we encountered were Crow, but they too, were outsiders with the Navajo. They had traveled from Montana for the pow-wow. We later were befriended by a Hopi cachina carver who took us to his house, showed us his workshop, and talked about being in recovery through AA. I paid him for the cachina he said he made for me, but that was the last I heard from him despite my complaints even to the local police.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8883640961446773160?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8883640961446773160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8883640961446773160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1998-arches-bryce-zion-window-rock-az.html' title='1998 Arches, Bryce, Zion &amp; Window Rock, AZ'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNWRgNzQoI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/0g_dzUrEc-Q/s72-c/Canyonlands4+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1815977953478307413</id><published>2007-10-21T20:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:33.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1998 Warwick &amp; York England</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwKAQnHPCI/AAAAAAAAANo/IJwlXf67qAo/s1600-h/York+Train+Station.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123981475616078882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwKAQnHPCI/AAAAAAAAANo/IJwlXf67qAo/s320/York+Train+Station.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwJmgnHO_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/U7n-3P00eAg/s1600-h/Warwick+Castle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123981033234447346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwJmgnHO_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/U7n-3P00eAg/s320/Warwick+Castle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwJpwnHPAI/AAAAAAAAANY/36z-ivdDS0Y/s1600-h/York+Cathedral+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123981089069022210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwJpwnHPAI/AAAAAAAAANY/36z-ivdDS0Y/s320/York+Cathedral+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwJrwnHPBI/AAAAAAAAANg/i1nHAf06KPA/s1600-h/York+Train+Station.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A class reunion of my students from the year I taught at the School of Social Work at the Birmingham Polytechnic brought me once again to England. I combined this trip with a "roots" excursion into York and the surrounding towns looking for my ancestors. I visited the towns of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Malton&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Knapton&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hunmanby&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rillington&lt;/span&gt;. My ancestors were throughout this area as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;yeomen&lt;/span&gt; (farmers), and a teacher. My direct ancestors &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;immigrated&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Rawdon&lt;/span&gt;, Quebec in 1820 where they established a homestead. Before going North I visited my favorite castle: Warwick and spent a day there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1815977953478307413?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1815977953478307413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1815977953478307413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1998-warwick-york-england.html' title='1998 Warwick &amp; York England'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwKAQnHPCI/AAAAAAAAANo/IJwlXf67qAo/s72-c/York+Train+Station.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7928176486045670420</id><published>2007-10-21T19:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:35.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1997 Cornwall England</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0AnHO7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/eb0-fYRaq5A/s1600-h/Cornwall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123971369558031282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0AnHO7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/eb0-fYRaq5A/s320/Cornwall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0gnHO8I/AAAAAAAAAM4/_g2-HsCAsHk/s1600-h/Shafesbury.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123971378147965890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0gnHO8I/AAAAAAAAAM4/_g2-HsCAsHk/s320/Shafesbury.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0wnHO9I/AAAAAAAAANA/SQ8d4ZtyCLY/s1600-h/Old+Salt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123971382442933202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0wnHO9I/AAAAAAAAANA/SQ8d4ZtyCLY/s320/Old+Salt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA1QnHO-I/AAAAAAAAANI/Q6qUELrDK3k/s1600-h/St.+Michaels+Mt..jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123971391032867810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA1QnHO-I/AAAAAAAAANI/Q6qUELrDK3k/s320/St.+Michaels+Mt..jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This trip was to do a lecture with a colleague at the University of Exeter, but we made it into a sweep through Cornwall, and back through Shaftesbury and Stonehenge. Unfortunately, we visited Stonehenge on a blustery, grey day and we couldn't get close to the stones themselves. Nonetheless, it is an impressive sight. Cornwall, the Southwest tip of England is full of narrow roads with stone walls on either side. The driving is nerve wracking, but its a particularly scenic part of England. We stayed in B&amp;amp;B's and were treated very warmly. The man in the knit cap is a boat captain. The other man stands in front of St. Michael's castle, which you can walk to but only at low tide. I was so impressed by this man walking along a beach dressed in a sportscoat and tie. That is so British I had to take his photo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7928176486045670420?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7928176486045670420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7928176486045670420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1997-cornwall-england.html' title='1997 Cornwall England'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxwA0AnHO7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/eb0-fYRaq5A/s72-c/Cornwall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1721534220633469878</id><published>2007-10-21T13:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:36.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1995 Peru: The Amazon River</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxupwQnHO5I/AAAAAAAAAMg/7bD7UuEBVnE/s1600-h/Amazon+Boys+w+Boats.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123875647621905298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxupwQnHO5I/AAAAAAAAAMg/7bD7UuEBVnE/s320/Amazon+Boys+w+Boats.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxupwgnHO6I/AAAAAAAAAMo/5wBdK2xKVCs/s1600-h/Amazon+Village.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123875651916872610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxupwgnHO6I/AAAAAAAAAMo/5wBdK2xKVCs/s320/Amazon+Village.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rxuo2gnHO2I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/8ZiUMSxkeT0/s1600-h/Amazon+Man+w+Hammock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123874655484459874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rxuo2gnHO2I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/8ZiUMSxkeT0/s320/Amazon+Man+w+Hammock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxukXwnHOwI/AAAAAAAAALw/YDSnumwKyog/s1600-h/Amazon+Man+w+Turtle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123869729156971266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxukXwnHOwI/AAAAAAAAALw/YDSnumwKyog/s320/Amazon+Man+w+Turtle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Touring up the Amazon River on the boat La Ezmeralda we went to small tributaries, the Ucayali, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tapiche&lt;/span&gt; and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yanayacu&lt;/span&gt;; as the Amazon itself is a very wide river. The Ezmeralda is a triple deck, sixteen passenger river boat with a six foot draw which can handle very shallow waters. The rivers were populated by pink dolphins, and the shorelines with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;crocodiles&lt;/span&gt;, harpy eagles, hawks, parrots, toucans, herons, macaws, kingfishers, howler monkeys, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;capybara&lt;/span&gt;. The din of all the animals combined with a plethora of insects made for a constant chorus of jungle sounds. The highlight for me, however, was visiting the villages of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Progresso&lt;/span&gt;, San Pedro, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Galicia&lt;/span&gt; where the "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Riverenos&lt;/span&gt;" lived (river people). They were subsistence farmers with little contact outside the jungle. As we approached the entire village would come out on the banks to see us, and then follow us as we toured their village. The photograph of the man with the turtle -- click on it so its enlarged. Do you notice the tatoo on his chest? I believe it signifies he is a local medicine man. Many of the people wore tattered t-shirts, and after I returned to the USA I collected 80 t-shirts and sent them to our guide, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Reny&lt;/span&gt;. Months went by and I assumed they had been stolen, until I got a letter with a photo: an entire village wearing my t-shirts! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1721534220633469878?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1721534220633469878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1721534220633469878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1995-peru-amazon-river.html' title='1995 Peru: The Amazon River'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxupwQnHO5I/AAAAAAAAAMg/7bD7UuEBVnE/s72-c/Amazon+Boys+w+Boats.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6116107049663107228</id><published>2007-10-21T12:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:36.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1993, 1994, 1996 Model Mugging</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuhIwnHOrI/AAAAAAAAALM/5SEkjmiJndY/s1600-h/Model+Mugging.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123866172924050098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuhIwnHOrI/AAAAAAAAALM/5SEkjmiJndY/s320/Model+Mugging.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;An adventure of another kind was inspired by my daughter Lisa, who took a  self defense class in Model Mugging. Following her example I took the basic class, and a year later took the "defense against weapons" class, and two years later took the "defense against multiple assailants" class. Model Mugging was developed as an easy-to-learn set of techniques (as opposed to years of martial arts). The "assailants" are in heavily padded suits so full kicks and strikes can be made without holding back. The theory is that the learning must be "state dependent" in a high adeneline state. Otherwise, if students are actually attacked they won't appropriately respond. Having never been through anything like boot camp my confidence to physically defend myself, was considerably improved. Hopefully, I will never be called upon to use it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6116107049663107228?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6116107049663107228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6116107049663107228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1993-1994-1996-model-mugging-self.html' title='1993, 1994, 1996 Model Mugging'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuhIwnHOrI/AAAAAAAAALM/5SEkjmiJndY/s72-c/Model+Mugging.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7213344653013666538</id><published>2007-10-21T10:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T16:49:19.694-06:00</updated><title type='text'>1990 - 2003   14 Scuba Diving Trips</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBmQnHOgI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-OGfexNvRR0/s1600-h/Hog+Fish.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123831495358102018" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBmQnHOgI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-OGfexNvRR0/s320/Hog+Fish.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBmgnHOhI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/JRkmkRrtrsM/s1600-h/Octopus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123831499653069330" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBmgnHOhI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/JRkmkRrtrsM/s320/Octopus.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBnAnHOiI/AAAAAAAAAKE/ILArKaUmzpE/s1600-h/Spotted+Trunkfish.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123831508243003938" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBnAnHOiI/AAAAAAAAAKE/ILArKaUmzpE/s320/Spotted+Trunkfish.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBnQnHOjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/baKUIyj6ou8/s1600-h/Swim+w+Dolphin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123831512537971250" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBnQnHOjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/baKUIyj6ou8/s320/Swim+w+Dolphin.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;On my third dive trip I met Ralph M. who had brought his entire family on the Cuan Law, a 100 foot trimaran, "live aboard". He had two Nikonos underwater cameras. The prints he sent me from that trip inspired me to buy an underwater camera, and from then on I took photographs on dive trips. Yet some of the highlights occurred above ground, such as a Christmas trip to Roatan in 1991 when we visited the local village with one of our group dressed like Santa Claus, giving out presents we'd brought with us to the local kids. That same trip I snorkeled twice with the dolphins -- another definite highlight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;As of my last dive trip I had been on 14 dive trips, and logged 154 dives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;May 1990: CoCo View, Roatan, Honduras (15 dives)&lt;br /&gt;March 1991: St. Vincent (11 dives)&lt;br /&gt;August 1991: Cuan Law Live Aboard, British Virgin Islands (12 dives)&lt;br /&gt;December 1991: St. Anthony’s Key, Roatan, Honduras (15 dives)&lt;br /&gt;May 1992: Molokini Crater, Maui, Hawaii (8 dives)&lt;br /&gt;December 1992: Posada Del Sol, Guanaja, Honduras (18 dives)&lt;br /&gt;August 1993: Molokini Crater, Maui, Hawaii (4 dives)&lt;br /&gt;December 1984: Divi Flamengo, Bonaire (13 dives)&lt;br /&gt;March 1996: Anse Chastane, St. Lucia (10 dives)&lt;br /&gt;December 1996: Barracuda Hotel, Cozemel, Mexico (9 dives)&lt;br /&gt;August 1998: St. George Is., Belize (12 dives)&lt;br /&gt;May 1999: Galapagos Islands, Ecuador (15 dives)&lt;br /&gt;March 2000: Buddy’s Dive Res., Bonaire (10 dives)&lt;br /&gt;June 2003: Molokini Crater, Maui (2 dives)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7213344653013666538?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7213344653013666538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7213344653013666538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1990-2003-14-scuba-diving-trips.html' title='1990 - 2003   14 Scuba Diving Trips'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuBmQnHOgI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-OGfexNvRR0/s72-c/Hog+Fish.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7647672744901070933</id><published>2007-10-20T22:25:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T11:08:26.015-06:00</updated><title type='text'>1990 1st Scuba Trip - CoCo View, Roatan, Honduras</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrVLQnHOfI/AAAAAAAAAJM/DUOOHLpCj9A/s1600-h/Frank+Roatan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123641915501656562" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrVLQnHOfI/AAAAAAAAAJM/DUOOHLpCj9A/s320/Frank+Roatan.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;At this point in my private practice I have a lot of clients with AIDS, and they are dying at a rate of one a month. The fragility of life strikes me, and although I don't have HIV, I am very aware of my own mortality. Carpe diem! I have always wanted to scuba dive, so I take lessons, get certified and convince my best friend Frank H. and Phil S. to go with me. I am blown away the first night on a snorkeling outing with flashlights. My god, its like an aquarium! Look at all those fish! This is a photo of Frank just before a shore dive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7647672744901070933?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7647672744901070933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7647672744901070933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1990.html' title='1990 1st Scuba Trip - CoCo View, Roatan, Honduras'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrVLQnHOfI/AAAAAAAAAJM/DUOOHLpCj9A/s72-c/Frank+Roatan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1802121299418545107</id><published>2007-10-20T22:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:38.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1989 Mountain Biking Colorado &amp; Utah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuQlwnHOqI/AAAAAAAAALE/hqnM-ng1Ssk/s1600-h/Bike+&amp;amp;+Brie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123847979442584226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuQlwnHOqI/AAAAAAAAALE/hqnM-ng1Ssk/s320/Bike+%26+Brie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was amazed to find bikes could actually negotiate mountain trails, and gear down to a crawl if necessary. I have now owned two mountain bikes and rode on a number of trails in Colorado. Of course, the mountain bike capitol is Moab, Utah and I did a trip there in 1990 with Phil S. and my best friend, Frank. I am pictured here is my deerhound, Brie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1802121299418545107?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1802121299418545107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1802121299418545107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1989-mountain-biking-colorado-utah.html' title='1989 Mountain Biking Colorado &amp; Utah'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxuQlwnHOqI/AAAAAAAAALE/hqnM-ng1Ssk/s72-c/Bike+%26+Brie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4620373202149280391</id><published>2007-10-20T21:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:38.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1989 Oaxaca, Mexico</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrNzgnHORI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tl1ItIbDEk4/s1600-h/DrummerBoy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123633810898368786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrNzgnHORI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tl1ItIbDEk4/s320/DrummerBoy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I go down to Oaxaca to visit Everett, my old running partner, who is living in Oaxaca. I stay for two weeks, and the second week we go to a remote beach called Tulacalula where we sleep in string hammocks we've bought at a market and brought with us. It costs us 50 cents a night, and we have to take them down each day to make room for an outdoor cafe. This is my first time South of the border, and I naively eat corn on the cob, flavored with goat cheese, from a street vendor, the first day. I have Montezuma's revenge for the rest of the trip. This photo was taken by a boy who was drumming up and down a side street in Oaxaca. I put him against a wall and take his photo. His hand then shot out, and I am naively offended he is asking for money. He is equally offended I 'm not giving him anything for his picture. I never made that mistake again, always carrying a wad of dollar bills, or better yet, providing people with a Polaroid, or sending them a copy. I've felt badly ever since that first encounter that this boy didn't get anything from me. I now realize that he probably made part of his family's living, which might consist of $5 or less a day.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4620373202149280391?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4620373202149280391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4620373202149280391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1989-oaxaca-mexico.html' title='1989 Oaxaca, Mexico'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrNzgnHORI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tl1ItIbDEk4/s72-c/DrummerBoy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4818395574751584876</id><published>2007-10-20T21:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:39.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1988 Lure Coursing with Deerhounds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrOqAnHOSI/AAAAAAAAAHs/q7KxcnkFqKc/s1600-h/Mike+&amp;amp;+Lure+Coursing+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123634747201239330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrOqAnHOSI/AAAAAAAAAHs/q7KxcnkFqKc/s320/Mike+%26+Lure+Coursing+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Scottish &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Deerhounds&lt;/span&gt; are "sight hounds", which are bred to chase using their speed and eyesight, versus blood hounds or coon hounds that use their nose. Sight hounds include grey hounds, Irish Wolfhounds, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Salukis&lt;/span&gt;, Borzois, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Afgans&lt;/span&gt;. Lure coursing is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;competitive&lt;/span&gt; event where a course is set up using a nylon line which goes in a wide, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;zig&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;zag&lt;/span&gt; circle around a field with pulleys at the corners, and powered by a starter motor. A garbage bag is tied on the line, and it whips around like a rabbit. The dogs chase it in groups of three, grouped by breed. They are judged not only on speed, but agility and ability to track the "rabbit". My dog, Brie was quite good at it, placing third in one event. Blue was quite bad at it, in his last race he blew over a hill in the wrong direction when the rabbit turned the other way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4818395574751584876?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4818395574751584876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4818395574751584876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1988-lure-coursing-with-deerhounds.html' title='1988 Lure Coursing with Deerhounds'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrOqAnHOSI/AAAAAAAAAHs/q7KxcnkFqKc/s72-c/Mike+%26+Lure+Coursing+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4746082274692038971</id><published>2007-10-20T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:39.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1988 England &amp; Scotland</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrUAgnHOeI/AAAAAAAAAJE/uf6SyrhTfEM/s1600-h/Scotland.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123640631306435042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrUAgnHOeI/AAAAAAAAAJE/uf6SyrhTfEM/s320/Scotland.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrT4gnHOdI/AAAAAAAAAI8/SlSWjAB3bh8/s1600-h/Dunoon+Scotland.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123640493867481554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrT4gnHOdI/AAAAAAAAAI8/SlSWjAB3bh8/s320/Dunoon+Scotland.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This trip centered around a stay with a couple in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Dunoon&lt;/span&gt;, Scotland during the Scottish Highland Games. There were five hundred bagpipers competing, and at the end of the competition there was a loud, drunken parade down the main street of the village. All the pipe bands prancing and playing and hold up their trophies. Pictured above is also parade watchers from a second story window. We also went to York by train from London where my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ancestors&lt;/span&gt; came from. We strolled along the wall (of the walled city) in the evening and visited the "Shambles", a very old part of the city which is leaning in on the street to the extent that the glass in the windows are bending. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4746082274692038971?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4746082274692038971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4746082274692038971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1988-england-scotland.html' title='1988 England &amp; Scotland'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrUAgnHOeI/AAAAAAAAAJE/uf6SyrhTfEM/s72-c/Scotland.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4969633534287053032</id><published>2007-10-20T21:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:40.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1987 Chaco Canyon, New Mexico</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRpwnHOcI/AAAAAAAAAI0/9mbUZ7qETOI/s1600-h/Lisa+Graduating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123638041441155522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRpwnHOcI/AAAAAAAAAI0/9mbUZ7qETOI/s320/Lisa+Graduating.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRiQnHOaI/AAAAAAAAAIo/0PWdeoIewWw/s1600-h/Chaco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123637912592136610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRiQnHOaI/AAAAAAAAAIo/0PWdeoIewWw/s320/Chaco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;To celebrate Lisa's graduation from Colorado College, we take a trip together to Chaco canyon. This is indian ruins of the Mesa Verde era, a whole network of them. We can't camp in the canyon, which is full when we arrive. We pitch a tent in an outlying campground, and in the morning a herd of wild mustangs comes by. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4969633534287053032?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4969633534287053032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4969633534287053032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1987-chaco-canyon-new-mexico.html' title='1987 Chaco Canyon, New Mexico'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRpwnHOcI/AAAAAAAAAI0/9mbUZ7qETOI/s72-c/Lisa+Graduating.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1517196974172918769</id><published>2007-10-20T21:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:40.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1987  Black Powder Rifles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrQAQnHOVI/AAAAAAAAAIE/BNXfWZxt0bc/s1600-h/Jim+&amp;amp;+Frank.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123636228964956498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrQAQnHOVI/AAAAAAAAAIE/BNXfWZxt0bc/s320/Jim+%26+Frank.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrPwgnHOUI/AAAAAAAAAH8/TfqvZf9kclc/s1600-h/Jim+&amp;amp;+Frank.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I buy a Hatfield &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cap lock&lt;/span&gt; rifle (of the Hatfield's &amp;amp; McCoys feud) with a tiger maple stock. Jim S., on the left of this photograph, was a classmate of mine in photography school. He and his father own cabins close to where we typically camp on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;East side&lt;/span&gt; of the Arkansas River close to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Buena&lt;/span&gt; Vista. Jim has gotten into black powder rifles and all things mountain man. He even bought a mule to be more authentic. He teaches us how to use a powder horn, and how to pack a ball and wad down the barrel. Boom! Lots of smoke and noise! Just for the record Frank (on the right), never shot a gun, including the one he's holding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-1517196974172918769?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1517196974172918769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/1517196974172918769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1987-black-powder-rifles.html' title='1987  Black Powder Rifles'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrQAQnHOVI/AAAAAAAAAIE/BNXfWZxt0bc/s72-c/Jim+%26+Frank.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5548954092700965751</id><published>2007-10-20T20:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:41.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1986 Taking Up Running</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRXwnHOZI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Vq5g0a8s7yY/s1600-h/Running.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123637732203510162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRXwnHOZI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Vq5g0a8s7yY/s320/Running.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I take a class with Colorado Free University on jogging. At the end of the first session we have to pair up with a running partner. I'm single, and I think, "Oh boy, look at all these single women!" But out of a dozen in the class I am paired up with the one other man (because we live the closest to one another). It turns out to be Everett S., who does become my regular running partner, and a good friend. We both go on to do 10k races, and run year around several days a week for several years. Finally, I get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bursitis&lt;/span&gt; in my hip and have to quite running. However, the usefulness of a regular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; program has caught on. I switch to lap swimming for 3 years until I get totally bored with it, then switch to a gym. On two occasions I have a trainer, both for several years. The first is Mike Jones (who "outed" Ted Haggard). The second is Vaughn V. until I got a bulging disc in my back when moving the Spring of 2007, and was advised to quit by the Spine Clinic doc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5548954092700965751?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5548954092700965751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5548954092700965751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1986-taking-up-running.html' title='1986 Taking Up Running'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxrRXwnHOZI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Vq5g0a8s7yY/s72-c/Running.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2064137473526741183</id><published>2007-10-19T20:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:41.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1986 to Present  Scottish Deerhounds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFAnHOOI/AAAAAAAAAHM/FXu5s_LyOQM/s1600-h/Fraser"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123238287360080098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFAnHOOI/AAAAAAAAAHM/FXu5s_LyOQM/s320/Fraser%27s+Lick.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFQnHOPI/AAAAAAAAAHU/PzEkYOr4pQ0/s1600-h/Sadie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123238291655047410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFQnHOPI/AAAAAAAAAHU/PzEkYOr4pQ0/s320/Sadie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFgnHOQI/AAAAAAAAAHc/yBkV-tOmHaE/s1600-h/Blue+&amp;amp;+Brie+1989+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123238295950014722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFgnHOQI/AAAAAAAAAHc/yBkV-tOmHaE/s320/Blue+%26+Brie+1989+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My passion for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Scottish Deerhounds began with Sadie, who had a "curly gene". She is pictured as a puppy. She was a sweet dog, but unfortunately had another genetic defect: a liver shunt which made her sick and she had to be put down before she was two years old. I am now on my seventh, Fraser, who is a cross between a deerhound and an Irish Wolfhound. These dogs are consistently gentle, even tempered companions whom I can take to the office and they don't bother my clients beyond a gracefully "hello". They are also so unusual that Fraser has his own calling card with FAQs on it, as I am always stopped and asked the same questions: "How old is he?", "How much does he weigh?" etc. Fraser is 36" at the shoulder, and taller than me when he stands on his hind legs -- which we discourage. Blue &amp;amp; Brie, litter mates, are pictured in the bottom photo. They were my companions after Sadie, but unfortunately these dogs being the size they are, don't have a long life span.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2064137473526741183?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2064137473526741183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2064137473526741183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1986-to-present-scottish-deerhounds_19.html' title='1986 to Present  Scottish Deerhounds'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlmFAnHOOI/AAAAAAAAAHM/FXu5s_LyOQM/s72-c/Fraser%27s+Lick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5939414960059514837</id><published>2007-10-19T20:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:41.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1986 Telluride Bluegrass Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlhegnHOKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/YlMs-LpTHtM/s1600-h/Bluegrass+Festival.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123233227888605346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="290" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlhegnHOKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/YlMs-LpTHtM/s320/Bluegrass+Festival.jpg" width="210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We all slept in tents in an open field, awakened in the morning by a canon which was shot off by a motorcycle gang. In the daytime you could get a bad sunburn with the altitude and intense sun. But at night you needed a parka. As soon as the sun dropped behind the mountains it got quite cold. We lay out on a blanket along with several hundred other people. The music was superb, and sealed my fate as a bluegrass fan. The band, the New Grass Revival was the most memoral band; and they as well as others, played late into the night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5939414960059514837?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5939414960059514837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5939414960059514837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1986-telluride-bluegrass-festival.html' title='1986 Telluride Bluegrass Festival'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlhegnHOKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/YlMs-LpTHtM/s72-c/Bluegrass+Festival.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3608102183713259453</id><published>2007-10-19T19:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:41.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1986 Canyonlands, Utah Vision Quest</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlfkwnHOJI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-uqdFXf5dUs/s1600-h/Vision+Quest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123231136239532178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlfkwnHOJI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-uqdFXf5dUs/s320/Vision+Quest.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;With only a journal and water I fasted for five days and hung out in the Utah desert. Ordinarily when you walk in the desert the lizards scurry out of your way, but when you sit for a long time they compete with each other, bobbing up and down on their front legs, for a good vantage point to watch you. My time slowed to large blocks: morning, afternoon, evening and I synchronized to sunup and sundown. I would lay on my back at dusk and watch the bats and swallows swooping up the flying insects; and listen to the lilting call of the canyon wren. I expected a vision, and stayed up all night the last night waiting for it. I thought the heavens might open up and the booming voice of God would come through. That didn't happen. I didn't figure out until discussing it with Terry K., my mentor, that the vision was in the vivid dreams I had while there -- as many as five a night. It was a great experience!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3608102183713259453?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3608102183713259453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3608102183713259453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1986-canyonlands-utah-vision-quest.html' title='1986 Canyonlands, Utah Vision Quest'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlfkwnHOJI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-uqdFXf5dUs/s72-c/Vision+Quest.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4324741626873117441</id><published>2007-10-19T19:38:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:42.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1979-1984 White Water Kayaking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlcQgnHOII/AAAAAAAAAGQ/5LN3P5lniYM/s1600-h/kayaking002+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123227489812297858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlcQgnHOII/AAAAAAAAAGQ/5LN3P5lniYM/s320/kayaking002+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Kayaking was an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; in fear management for the first few years until I got a roll down well. If you flipped your boat you had two tries to get up. If you didn't make it you had to get out and swim while hanging onto your boat &amp;amp; paddle and get to the side of the river. If you did that routine twice in one trip you had to stay out because the Colorado rivers are so cold you risk hypothermia. In the end I had the kayak on top of my car in a parking lot in Aspen and a truck clipped it. My kayaking partner had already quit the sport, and I didn't patch the boat. Its a young man's sport you have to train for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4324741626873117441?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4324741626873117441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4324741626873117441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1979-1984-white-water-kayaking.html' title='1979-1984 White Water Kayaking'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlcQgnHOII/AAAAAAAAAGQ/5LN3P5lniYM/s72-c/kayaking002+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-4365701610509915912</id><published>2007-10-19T18:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:42.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1978 to Present: Colorado Skiing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlMFAnHOHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/w-mdzBPAPsk/s1600-h/Skiing001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123209700057757810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlMFAnHOHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/w-mdzBPAPsk/s320/Skiing001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I always feel fortunate when riding up the chairlift and am asked where I'm from. I can ski every winter -- we try for every other weekend -- with my best friend, Frank my ski partner for thirty years. I also can do four days to a week with my family, from my parents' home in Snowmass, skiing being my father's passion since I was a child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-4365701610509915912?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4365701610509915912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/4365701610509915912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1978-to-present-colorado-skiing.html' title='1978 to Present: Colorado Skiing'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlMFAnHOHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/w-mdzBPAPsk/s72-c/Skiing001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-49573080512655889</id><published>2007-10-19T18:10:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:43.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1974 to Present: Colorado Camping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNVcgNzQnI/AAAAAAAAAOI/vAro69XEKzU/s1600-h/Trailer-1997.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126034749050274418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNVcgNzQnI/AAAAAAAAAOI/vAro69XEKzU/s320/Trailer-1997.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlLDAnHOGI/AAAAAAAAAGA/v7CRjvr90s4/s1600-h/Campsite-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123208566186391650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlLDAnHOGI/AAAAAAAAAGA/v7CRjvr90s4/s320/Campsite-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlIDgnHODI/AAAAAAAAAFo/cS9SnfxOFuY/s1600-h/Trailer.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlIDwnHOEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5jpzz5KWIuc/s1600-h/Jim"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123205280536410178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxlIDwnHOEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5jpzz5KWIuc/s320/Jim%27s+Cabin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Upon moving to Colorado I began what has been a long run of camping in the high country. This has included four wheel drive excursions, white water kayaking, and two different RV's. The first we bought in 1977, pictured here. I ended up leaving it all year round on BLM land for ten years. Near the end of that time it was vandalized twice, and then BLM requested I move it. By that time the tires needed to be replaced and I no longer owned a vehicle big enough to move it. I ended up giving it to someone who would haul it out. I then bought an Aliner, a popup, hardsided, triangular trailer. Also pictured here is a cabin owned by Jim S., a classmate of mine in photography school. One year I camped 30 days in one season, but I also was known to go up in the dead of winter with just my dogs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-49573080512655889?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/49573080512655889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/49573080512655889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1974-to-present-colorado-camping.html' title='1974 to Present: Colorado Camping'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyNVcgNzQnI/AAAAAAAAAOI/vAro69XEKzU/s72-c/Trailer-1997.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3749214266690973514</id><published>2007-10-17T21:28:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:43.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1973 Spain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbS5AnHOCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/D957rY8cJgg/s1600-h/Spain+-+Basket+Weaver+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122513503038945314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbS5AnHOCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/D957rY8cJgg/s320/Spain+-+Basket+Weaver+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Spring break, we decide to tour Spain by car. We visited mostly small villages, shying away from the big beach resorts. This photo was taken in the hour we were killing before traveling back to Madrid to catch the plane back to England. I finally got up the courage to ask someone if I could take their photograph -- a first for me while traveling. This man was quite gracious about it. He was in the process of weaving a basket. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3749214266690973514?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3749214266690973514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3749214266690973514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1973-spain.html' title='1973 Spain'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbS5AnHOCI/AAAAAAAAAFg/D957rY8cJgg/s72-c/Spain+-+Basket+Weaver+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6673783020412588918</id><published>2007-10-17T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:43.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1972 Touring Wales</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbOVwnHOBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/UOiyGEffM14/s1600-h/Conway+Castle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122508499402045458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbOVwnHOBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/UOiyGEffM14/s320/Conway+Castle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is Conway Castle in North Wales. While my passport was at the Home Office getting a work permit I couldn't leave the country. We took the recommendation of the locals and decided to tour Wales in the mean time. We rented a car, and with the help of an invaluable AA guide, went from town to small town visiting castles and staying in small B&amp;amp;B's. Driving on the "wrong" side of the road only got me in trouble once when I turned around on a country road and automatically ended up on the right side. Coming up over the hill was someone pulling a caravan (travel trailer). I clearly saw the terror in their faces with our near miss head-on -- which was entirely my fault.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6673783020412588918?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6673783020412588918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6673783020412588918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1972-touring-wales.html' title='1972 Touring Wales'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbOVwnHOBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/UOiyGEffM14/s72-c/Conway+Castle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-3730040751460366593</id><published>2007-10-17T21:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:45.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1972-1973  Living In England</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN0QnHN8I/AAAAAAAAAEw/FaMQL_JoDxs/s1600-h/Armoured+Horse-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122156080155539394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px" height="197" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN0QnHN8I/AAAAAAAAAEw/FaMQL_JoDxs/s320/Armoured+Horse-e.jpg" width="265" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN1gnHN9I/AAAAAAAAAE4/EypmS20dQEw/s1600-h/Cotswolds+-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122156101630375890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="137" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN1gnHN9I/AAAAAAAAAE4/EypmS20dQEw/s320/Cotswolds+-e.jpg" width="241" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN4wnHN-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/Rz4Sqxeto4s/s1600-h/Muskateers-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122156157464950754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN4wnHN-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/Rz4Sqxeto4s/s320/Muskateers-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Even before the official graduation ceremonies from my graduate degree in social work we were on a Boeing delivery flight to Lisbon, Portugal and then a train through Spain and France to England. I got a job teaching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;groupwork&lt;/span&gt; at the Birmingham Polytechnic School of Social Work. When we went over Lisa was 8 y.o. and wanted to know if we would have tea with the Queen. She was initially teased by her classmates for her American "drawl", but by Spring she was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;indistinguishable&lt;/span&gt; from her "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Brummy&lt;/span&gt;" counterparts. I, on the other hand, despite my efforts to blend in, was inevitably asked, "How long have you been in this Country?" We considered staying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;indefinitely&lt;/span&gt;, having been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;disillusioned&lt;/span&gt; by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Vietn&lt;/span&gt;am War, and the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Bobbie Kennedy. I would have taught another year, but my wife at the time got very homesick for our culture and her family. So we returned after only one academic year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-3730040751460366593?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3730040751460366593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/3730040751460366593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1972-1973-living-in-england.html' title='1972-1973  Living In England'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWN0QnHN8I/AAAAAAAAAEw/FaMQL_JoDxs/s72-c/Armoured+Horse-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7283231998458868040</id><published>2007-10-17T20:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:45.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1972 First Passport</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you know me now you will most likely chuckle when you see this photo from thirty five years ago. It is the photo for my first passport &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122503040498612210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="243" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbJYAnHN_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/RKU7r2GyXN0/s320/Passport+Photo.jpg" width="222" border="0" /&gt;. It reflects the fashion of the time, as well as my "radicalization" which occurred about 1970 related to the political struggles of the time. Most notable was the Cambodian Invasion and the killings by National Guard troops at Kent State -- actions which shut down the University of Washington with student protests (as was the case across the country). The coat and tie reflects the fashion of the British at the time when it was common to see laborers in sports coats, and the proper professional British citizen would were only suits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7283231998458868040?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7283231998458868040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7283231998458868040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1972-first-passport.html' title='1972 First Passport'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxbJYAnHN_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/RKU7r2GyXN0/s72-c/Passport+Photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-8002166771290872685</id><published>2007-10-16T21:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:46.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1968 Take Up Photography Seriously</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWIxwnHN5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/j-gZVR9Ksjs/s1600-h/1st+Photos+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122150539647727506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 228px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" height="171" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWIxwnHN5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/j-gZVR9Ksjs/s320/1st+Photos+1.jpg" width="263" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWI5AnHN6I/AAAAAAAAAEk/UtlWzQ6R4v4/s1600-h/Church-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122150664201779106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px" height="153" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWI5AnHN6I/AAAAAAAAAEk/UtlWzQ6R4v4/s320/Church-e.jpg" width="235" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We became friends with Bob &amp;amp; Nancy L. Bob was a postman, but didn't consider it his career. He was a photographer, and carried mail just because it was a low-stress way to make a living, and be out taking pictures or in the darkroom by late afternoon. He had studied under Minor White, and Bob became my first teacher -- explaining the relationship between f-stops and shutter speeds, and how the secret was all in the way light fell on objects. I sold off a sea kayak in order to buy my first camera: a Pentax Spotmatic. Bob, I, and another friend would develop slide shows with music to entertain each other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-8002166771290872685?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8002166771290872685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/8002166771290872685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1968-take-up-photography-seriously.html' title='1968 Take Up Photography Seriously'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWIxwnHN5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/j-gZVR9Ksjs/s72-c/1st+Photos+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5059989761727019459</id><published>2007-10-16T21:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:47.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1965 - 1967  Horseshoeing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_MwnHNxI/AAAAAAAAADg/nirfnutq1Qc/s1600-h/Horseshoeing1e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122140008387917586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 108px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" height="205" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_MwnHNxI/AAAAAAAAADg/nirfnutq1Qc/s320/Horseshoeing1e.jpg" width="108" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_NAnHNyI/AAAAAAAAADo/m4htc12dITk/s1600-h/Horseshoeing2e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122140012682884898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 95px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px" height="253" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_NAnHNyI/AAAAAAAAADo/m4htc12dITk/s320/Horseshoeing2e.jpg" width="164" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_OAnHNzI/AAAAAAAAADw/VtGs8dCi4-o/s1600-h/Horseshoeing3e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122140029862754098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="258" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_OAnHNzI/AAAAAAAAADw/VtGs8dCi4-o/s320/Horseshoeing3e.jpg" width="157" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_OgnHN0I/AAAAAAAAAD4/whoEJKJ_rv8/s1600-h/Horseshoeing-Mike-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122140038452688706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_OgnHN0I/AAAAAAAAAD4/whoEJKJ_rv8/s320/Horseshoeing-Mike-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I attended the Oregon State University School of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Farriery, taught by a retired calvary sargeant who treated class like bootcamp. Again I was different, the "college kid", as other students were cowboys, truck drivers, and roofers. My respect came from perfect scores on all the written exams. Once I graduated I quickly developed a following because I was not an unreliable alcoholic -- qualities that my competition had. The one thing they didn't teach us in school was how to do the job quickly. When I started it took me four hours to shoe a horse. My first customer stood patiently while I caught my shirt on fire, and cut up my arms with his horse jerking his feet. Fortunately, he was blind and saw none of it. He became my first regular, and I eventually could finish the job in under an hour. I made $10 a horse, which at the time, was enough to support my family and continue at the University of Washington. Good horseshoers now make $100 or more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5059989761727019459?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5059989761727019459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5059989761727019459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1965-1967-horseshoeing.html' title='1965 - 1967  Horseshoeing'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxV_MwnHNxI/AAAAAAAAADg/nirfnutq1Qc/s72-c/Horseshoeing1e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6626133635947694851</id><published>2007-10-16T20:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:48.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1965 Lisa is born!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWGTgnHN4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/JScN5iTzBh8/s1600-h/Lisa+baby-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122147820933429122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWGTgnHN4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/JScN5iTzBh8/s320/Lisa+baby-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't say I would recommend having a child when you are barely twenty years old, nor can I say I was prepared to be a husband and father; but I was in a hurry to be an adult and welcomed the change. We lived in a chicken coop converted into a small rental house for $30 a month. Lisa was born at a time that fathers weren't allowed in the delivery room. Our job was to pace in the waiting room and smoke cigars. We disposable diapers hadn't yet been invented, and washed out cloth diapers in the toilet and tossed them in the washing machine. Lisa was an easy baby, who loved to be bounced on my knee. I would startle her by suddenly bouncing her and saying "Bang!", which turned out to be her first word. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6626133635947694851?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6626133635947694851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6626133635947694851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1965-lisa-is-born.html' title='1965 Lisa is born!'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWGTgnHN4I/AAAAAAAAAEU/JScN5iTzBh8/s72-c/Lisa+baby-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-825698227284063658</id><published>2007-10-16T20:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:48.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1963  Olympic View Arabian Farm</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWArAnHN1I/AAAAAAAAAEA/I4g3CCVZhn0/s1600-h/Gabelien+Barn-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122141627590588242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWArAnHN1I/AAAAAAAAAEA/I4g3CCVZhn0/s320/Gabelien+Barn-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWAsQnHN2I/AAAAAAAAAEI/GD-1kJOHSPM/s1600-h/Ray+Gabelien-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122141649065424738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWAsQnHN2I/AAAAAAAAAEI/GD-1kJOHSPM/s320/Ray+Gabelien-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The summer following my graduation from high school I worked for Ray G. on his farm on Whidbey Island on the Puget Sound in Washington state. Primarily I was bucking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alfalfa&lt;/span&gt; and hay bales, and stacking them in the loft of the barn as they fell off the elevator. It was the hardest work I'd ever done, and I had the dubious distinction of being the only "city kid" who didn't quit. I liked being treated my Ray as an "adult" hand, and loved the fact that I was charged with breaking 4 three year old colts. We worked from sunup to sundown, went in for dinner where Ray fell asleep on the kitchen floor. We would wake him up to go hook up the half dozen dairy cows to milking machines. I slept in the hay loft, and dated the pig farmer's daughter on the neighboring farm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-825698227284063658?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/825698227284063658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/825698227284063658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1963-olympic-view-arabian-farm-whidbey.html' title='1963  Olympic View Arabian Farm'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxWArAnHN1I/AAAAAAAAAEA/I4g3CCVZhn0/s72-c/Gabelien+Barn-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6888983205968135694</id><published>2007-10-15T20:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:49.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1962 Canoe Trip, British Columbia, Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxQmaQnHNvI/AAAAAAAAADU/6Dep5V-3WtA/s1600-h/Canvas+Canoe-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121760908804568818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="242" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxQmaQnHNvI/AAAAAAAAADU/6Dep5V-3WtA/s320/Canvas+Canoe-e.jpg" width="248" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I was 17 years old, the summer before my senior year of high school, I built a canvas canoe from a kit, and with my friend Greg W., traveled to Babine Lake in British Columbia. We canoed into an abandoned logging camp. After a steady rain for three days, we discovered a bear had ripped open the canoe looking for food. We stayed on for another two weeks, eating squirrel and freeze dried provisions, until a local indian took us out in his dugout -- in trade for one of our paddles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-6888983205968135694?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6888983205968135694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/6888983205968135694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1962-canoe-trip-british-columbia-canada.html' title='1962 Canoe Trip, British Columbia, Canada'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxQmaQnHNvI/AAAAAAAAADU/6Dep5V-3WtA/s72-c/Canvas+Canoe-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2343408802040869303</id><published>2007-10-14T22:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:49.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1961   Bellevue, Washington</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121421391639820002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" height="241" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLxnwnHNuI/AAAAAAAAAC8/rWshKjDRPTc/s320/Best+Horseman+Patch-e.jpg" width="219" border="0" /&gt;The summer of my 16th birthday I owned my own horse and rode competitively with a team called the Vaqueros in gymkhana events: barrel racing, pole bending, relay races, etc.. That year I held the state record for the figure eight stake race: 8 seconds. My horse &amp;amp; cowboy dreams had &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLwggnHNsI/AAAAAAAAACs/SDY_xBJuUvo/s1600-h/Horse+Riding-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121420167574140610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLwggnHNsI/AAAAAAAAACs/SDY_xBJuUvo/s320/Horse+Riding-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;come true, to the extent possible for a suburban kid. My father had blessed me with a move to a housing development called the Diamond "S" Ranch where a dozen homes had a barn and an acre of pasture land. I still recall him asking if I would rather live there, or on Lake Washington where I could own a boat. There was no question in my mind what my preference was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLwgwnHNtI/AAAAAAAAAC0/-pjC5gZWQ_o/s1600-h/Best+Horseman+Patch-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2343408802040869303?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2343408802040869303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2343408802040869303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1961.html' title='1961   Bellevue, Washington'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLxnwnHNuI/AAAAAAAAAC8/rWshKjDRPTc/s72-c/Best+Horseman+Patch-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5746763287778751516</id><published>2007-10-14T22:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T21:51:04.867-06:00</updated><title type='text'>1960  British Columbia, Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLsdgnHNqI/AAAAAAAAACc/Sf8lYxh2uaY/s1600-h/Homestead+Cabin-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121415717988021922" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLsdgnHNqI/AAAAAAAAACc/Sf8lYxh2uaY/s320/Homestead+Cabin-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLsdgnHNrI/AAAAAAAAACk/9-MalrHexks/s1600-h/Oscar+&amp;amp;+Horses-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121415717988021938" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLsdgnHNrI/AAAAAAAAACk/9-MalrHexks/s320/Oscar+%26+Horses-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The summer I was fifteen years old a friend of my father's flew me in his sea plane to a homestead on a remote lake in British Columbia. I worked for Oscar and "Bunch", who had carved out a small ranch with about thirty head of both cattle and horses. One of my jobs was to find the cows by the sound their bells, which also functioned to keep away the bears. I was assigned one cow to milk morning and night. I also helped build fenses, and another cabin, harvest potatoes, separate the cream from the milk, and hand churn butter. We would fish in the afternoon for our dinner. We also ate canned moose meat, and fresh venison. My favorite activity was riding the horses, and the most memorable ride was when a pair of moose crashed through the brush right in front of us. Bald eagles, loons, deer, moose, and black bear were common. We had no electricity or plumming, and used a root cellar to keep food cooled. The nearest town was a three day horseback ride away (in the photo Oscar is packed up for the trip). I often had the sense that the game trails I rode on were never tracked by another person, except perhaps the local indians. The only communication with the outside world was by ham radio, and we'd listen to broadcast messages everyday at a certain time to everyone "in the bush" -- which is how I got a birthday message that year. Planes were infrequent, and when we heard one we'd run outside to get the wing number. Indians wanting to trade beaded, deerhide gloves for potatoes was more common. We would take an outboard onto Lake Euchinico in the evening. The loons would be calling like hysterical women, and we would see moose knee high in the shallows, eating the reeds and cat tails. It was a scene I still think of as particularly peaceful, and wild.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sDYZ8OCtt9w/Tm2AdcRd4oI/AAAAAAAACDA/M2Mzc0Iju3E/s1600/Moose-e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="370" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sDYZ8OCtt9w/Tm2AdcRd4oI/AAAAAAAACDA/M2Mzc0Iju3E/s400/Moose-e.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5746763287778751516?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5746763287778751516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5746763287778751516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1960_14.html' title='1960  British Columbia, Canada'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLsdgnHNqI/AAAAAAAAACc/Sf8lYxh2uaY/s72-c/Homestead+Cabin-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-5785923350768148749</id><published>2007-10-14T22:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:50.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1951  Ross Lake, Washington</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLnLgnHNnI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NFYOaehYSkk/s1600-h/Fishing+Trip+6yo-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121409911192237682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLnLgnHNnI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NFYOaehYSkk/s320/Fishing+Trip+6yo-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My first real adventure happened when I was six years old. My Dad took me with him on a fishing trip to Ross Lake in Washington State, along with my grandfather and a friend of my father's. We rented an outboard, and motored up the lake, catching our limit in rainbow trout. One night the men scared a black bear out of our camp by banging pots and pans. Unfortunately, I didn't see the bear because I had "gone to China" by tunneling to the bottom of my sleeping bag. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-5785923350768148749?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5785923350768148749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/5785923350768148749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1946.html' title='1951  Ross Lake, Washington'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLnLgnHNnI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NFYOaehYSkk/s72-c/Fishing+Trip+6yo-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-2251608982381107740</id><published>2007-10-14T21:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T12:22:59.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>1950  Seattle, Washington</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLlMAnHNkI/AAAAAAAAABc/ZURlsIZ0xWA/s1600-h/5+yo-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="245" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121407720758916674" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLlMAnHNkI/AAAAAAAAABc/ZURlsIZ0xWA/s320/5+yo-e.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;When I was five years old Gregory Peck starred in &lt;em&gt;The Gunfighter, &lt;/em&gt;and like many boys my age, I was very enamored with everything cowboy --especially horses and guns. I would ride a broom stick horse, sketch horses, read about horses, and listen to radio dramas like &lt;em&gt;The Lone Ranger.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Not yet in my awarenss is that the country is about to go to war with North Korea, and the McCarthy Hearings have just begun. And the life of a cowboy that I dream about, is something I'll later get a taste of, but it is largely a passing era.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-2251608982381107740?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2251608982381107740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/2251608982381107740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1950.html' title='1950  Seattle, Washington'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxLlMAnHNkI/AAAAAAAAABc/ZURlsIZ0xWA/s72-c/5+yo-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-7503572450785214413</id><published>2007-10-14T17:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:50.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1948  Balboa Beach, Southern California</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKsTQnHNeI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RlWTldI50jE/s1600-h/Dad&amp;amp;Mike-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121345173150184930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 177px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px" height="272" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKsTQnHNeI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RlWTldI50jE/s320/Dad%26Mike-e.jpg" width="167" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKsIwnHNdI/AAAAAAAAAAc/VYUu_2xknd4/s1600-h/Mom&amp;amp;MikeBaby-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is a photo of my father and I when I was about three years old. By this time I had a baby sister, with three other siblings yet to come. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-7503572450785214413?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7503572450785214413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/7503572450785214413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1948.html' title='1948  Balboa Beach, Southern California'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKsTQnHNeI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RlWTldI50jE/s72-c/Dad%26Mike-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-828960413027433555</id><published>2007-10-14T17:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:47:51.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1945 Army Airforce Base, Dayton, Ohio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKpNwnHNbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Q4og5PVXAao/s1600-h/Mom&amp;amp;MikeBaby-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121341780126021042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKpNwnHNbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Q4og5PVXAao/s320/Mom%26MikeBaby-e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was born before television, computers, and cellphones. The radio and news paper boys were all about the defeat of Germany. Just days after I was born the Enola Gay dropped "Fat Man" and "Little Boy" on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and our world would be forever changed.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8582673727083914569-828960413027433555?l=mikesbio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/828960413027433555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8582673727083914569/posts/default/828960413027433555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesbio.blogspot.com/2007/10/1945.html' title='1945 Army Airforce Base, Dayton, Ohio'/><author><name>Mike Holtby</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Sb0wqKlrbZI/AAAAAAAABsw/B0jQmyThE3I/S220/Holtby-+e-small.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RxKpNwnHNbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Q4og5PVXAao/s72-c/Mom%26MikeBaby-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
